


Torque *On Hiatus*

by dealio



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Motorcycle AU, Mutual Pining, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), abuse mention, graphic depiction of violence, heavy angst at times, keith is awkward and it's not because lance is hot okay, klance, lance is smooth and confident and a bit of an asshole but what's new, mechanic!lance, racer!keith, the biggest pine trees tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-08-19 10:04:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8201078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dealio/pseuds/dealio
Summary: Keith is a sportbike racer with only one thing on his mind: winning. He's headstrong and determined, and can seemingly handle anything life throws at him. That is, until he meets a certain boastful mechanic that just so happens to be easy on the eyes. As it turns out races aren't the only things he hopes to be winning.





	1. Chapter 1

Keith Kogane was a natural born racer. Quick. Agile. And a competitive spirit that drove him to win at all costs. 

This was truly where Keith belonged. 100mph on smooth asphalt. Leaning into hairpin turns, absolute disaster only inches away. The sound of the engine as he pushed it to it’s limits was music to his ears. Sometimes it felt like he was the only one on the track (and not just because he often found himself in first place with the other racers in his dust).

Being on the racetrack was the only place where Keith felt alive. His palms connected to the handlebars became an extension of his arms and there was nothing quite like the feeling of a 450lb mechanical beast built for nothing but speed between his legs. The rumble of the engine sounded like the purr of a wild cat, resonating through his body, settling in his chest and sending chills up his spine. 

It was safe to say that Keith’s bike was very precious to him. So when it needed a tune up or work done to it he only allowed the best to touch it.

McClain’s Custom Cycle Shop. Shiro had told him about it when they first met. He had insisted that after he found McClain’s he wouldn’t let anyone else touch his bike ever again.

“He’s top notch, I promise. You won’t regret it.” Shiro had told him.

“Is he really that good?” Keith asked, his arms crossed and raised a cocked, scrutinizing eyebrow. 

Shiro rested his prosthetic arm on Keith’s shoulder, a smile so bright on his face that Keith could possibly go blind if he looked too long.

“I’ll tell you what: Take your bike to him and if you don’t like his work I’ll pay for not only that but also for you to take it to another mechanic.”

Keith’s eyebrows shot up. That was a lot of money Shiro was putting down on his faith in this Lance guy. As stubborn as he may be, Keith had learned a long time ago to take Shrio’s word and advise to heart. 

Shiro used to be a racer, a world champion, now he was Keith’s coach and mentor. Keith owed a lot of his success to Shiro’s guidance. 

They had met after a particularly bad race. Keith had come in dead last, cursing and kicking the dust on the side of the track. He could do better. He HAD to do better. He had to WIN.

“Excuse me.” came a gentle voice from behind him.

Keith whirled around and stopped dead in his tracks. There was no denying who the man was standing before him. None other than Takashi Shirogane. Keith gaped at him, he must have looked like a deer in headlights. Takashi was here, talking to him, and here he was making a fool out of himself in front of a racing legend. 

Takashi Shirogane was everything Keith dreamed of being. He had started off in amatuer racing, here in his hometown, and worked his way to the big times. Keith fantasized about one day racing in a world championship just like him. He pushed himself to be just as good as he was. Shiro was the best.

Until that day. The accident. Shiro lost a lot, the championship, his dignity... his arm. It was all over the news. He spent weeks in the hospital. No one expected him to make it, but somehow he pulled through. 

After that he retired from racing and disappeared for a whole year. In the blink of an eye Takashi Shirogane was gone. 

That day was the first time anyone had seen him since the accident, and Keith didn’t even know he was there till he nearly gave him a heart attack right there on the track. 

He extended his hand out to Keith and he eyed it like it was the hand of God.

“I’m-”

“T-takashi Shirogane!” Keith blurted as he grasped Shiro’s hand with both of his own. Keith mentally kicked himself, he was acting like an idiot in front of his idol and he just couldn’t control it. 

“Please, call me Shiro.” the older man had said with a smile so warm Keith could almost feel himself melting under his gaze. A blush broke out on his cheeks. Keith prayed Shiro hadn’t noticed, or at least wouldn’t mention it.

“I noticed you were having a bad day.” Shiro pointed out with a sympathetic tilt of his head. 

Keith cast his gaze downward, face growing ever hotter, but this time it was from embarrassment. What a way to meet your idol. Nobody sees him for a year and the day he turns up and talks to you is the worst racing day of your life. 

But Shiro’s face was soft and his eyes were kind and Keith found the courage to look back up at him. The look on his face must have screamed “Help me!” because that’s exactly what Shiro offered to do. And ever since then Shiro had become his mentor and a close friend. What Keith had thought the worst day of his life had quickly become the best. 

Keith trusted Shiro completely. He had never given him a reason not to. All of his advice had been sound and he could feel himself improving, his times were certainly getting better and he found himself winning a lot more than he used to. 

So if Shiro was adamant about something and promised good results, even swore on it, who was Keith to doubt him? So he held Shiro to his promise and took his bike to McClain’s. Needless to say Keith was impressed and Shiro hadn’t had to dish out a dime.

The shop was dimly lit. Helmets, jackets and other merchandise covered the walls along with pictures and posters of bikes and racers, racetracks and what looked like customers with their custom builds. 

A motorcycle sat on display in front of the main window. Keith edged closer and immediately recognized it as the last bike Shiro had raced with before the accident.

“Hey, can I help you?” 

A man stood behind the counter, arms crossed and leaning on the glass display case housing smaller merchandise. 

“Uh, yeah,” Keith said as he made his way over to the counter. “I’m looking for Lance McClain.”

“He’s in the back,” the man said jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. “Working on a project. He doesn’t like to be disturbed while he’s ‘in the zone’ as he likes to put it.” he said, complete with air quotes. 

“Did you need some work done?” 

“Oh.. yeah, my bike-”

“Wait, I know you.” the man’s voice boomed as he cut Keith off.

“Kogane right? Keith Kogane?” 

“Uh… yeah, that’s me.” Keith said.

A large hand was thrust towards him, “Oh wow. I’m Hunk. Big fan.”

“H-hi.” Keith stuttered. He really didn’t know what to say. There was a reason he didn’t do his own interviews or talk to the public himself. Shiro usually did that for him. It wasn’t because he didn’t want to, he just didn’t know how to. Saying that Keith Kogane wasn’t a people person was an understatement. 

Luckily Hunk didn’t linger on it long, choosing instead to get right down to business.

“So what can we do for you?”

Keith gave him the details as Hunk typed on his computer, taking the to study the pictures on the walls, wondering which photos Lance was in and what he looked like. 

“Alright, man, you’re all set. We just need the key.” Hunk said with a friendly smile. 

Keith dropped the key into Hunks outstretched hand just as a bell chimed indicating someone had entered the shop.

“Hey Hunk.” came the familiar voice of Shiro as he approached the counter.

“Shiro! Good to see you, man!” Hunk bellowed a warm welcome to Keith’s mentor.

“Likewise.” Shiro replied as the men clasped their hands together in a firm handshake. In true Shiro fashion he clapped a firm hand on Hunks shoulder in his own signature form of greeting.

“What brings you here?” Hunk asked as they pulled away from each other.

“No business today, Hunk. I’m just here to pick up Keith.” Shiro explained.

“I’m sure Lance would like to see you, but.. you know how he gets when he’s working on something.” Hunk said, lowering his voice at the end as if the mechanic would hear him.

Shiro replied with a hearty laugh, “Maybe another time then, Hunk. We gotta get going anyway.”

“Sure, and hey, you can pick up your bike Friday morning alright?” Hunk said to Keith.

Keith nodded, “Thanks.”

Keith was back in the shop Friday morning, bright and early, as soon as it opened. 

“Missed her, huh?” Hunk spoke. Keith gave him a guilty smile as he wrung his hands together. "Don't worry, Lance took great care of her."

Hunk led him back into the garage where his bike was parked at the far end. 

“Where is he anyway?” Keith asked.

“Oh he’s not here yet. He’s always about a half hour late.” Hunk explained as they neared his bike.

“Oh.” Keith replied. 

“Well here she is. Finished and ready to go. Why don’t you give her a once over.” Hunk suggested.

Keith circled his bike, inspecting every aspect of the work that had been done to her. He had to admit, Lance was good. 

“Here, crank her up.” Hunk said dropping the key into his hand. 

Keith swung his leg over and started the bike. The engine roared to life like an angry lion and Keith could feel the familiar power vibrating through his body to the very bone, if not more powerful than before. She sounded amazing. She felt amazing. Lance, it seemed, had outdone himself. 

That evening after some practice runs Keith and Shiro sat in the empty stands, Keith raving about the performance of the bike since Lance had worked his magic on it. 

“See? What did I tell you?” Shiro said in that I-told-you-so voice. 

“You were right. No argument there. Just wish I could have thanked him in person.” Keith said. 

“There’s always next time.” Shiro said.

That was the only time Shiro had ever been wrong. As it turned out Keith had a way of missing the mechanic at every turn. ‘Lance hasn’t come in yet. Lance ran out for lunch. Lance had some business across town.’ Keith couldn’t catch a break, and Lance was quickly becoming somewhat of an enigma. 

Anyone who treated Keith’s bike the way Lance had, with so much care and expertise, he HAD to meet. But so far Keith was having no such luck. 

Until one day Shiro had dropped him off early at the garage to pick up his bike, having had some errands to run on the other side of town. 

“Hey, Keith. Lance is just finishing up, have a seat.” Hunk said gesturing to some chairs by the back entrance. 

Keith nodded and sat down. Finally. He was going to meet the man behind the magic. He was almost nervous. 

About 10 minutes later he heard heavy footsteps behind the door to the garage just before it was pushed opened. 

The man that emerged used the back of his arm to wipe sweat off his brow, leaving a clean spot on his otherwise grease stained face, before leaning on the counter. “Well, hot-shot’s bike is done. You should probably call him up, tell him he can come get her.” 

So this was Lance. Keith wasn’t sure what he expected, but it wasn’t this. It certainly wasn’t a young man with warm, tan skin currently smudged with grease and slick with sweat. It wasn’t pretty eyes and short, soft looking brown hair. It wasn’t a charming smile and a fetching face. 

And what was worse was when he lifted the bottom of his greasy tank top to wipe his face on, revealing a long, lean abdomen. He felt his face getting hot as he tried not to stare at the hard muscles there as Lance hunched forward just a bit. Keith shifted in his seat, trying to get his eyes to cooperate with him. 

“Actually, Keith is right here.” Hunk said, gesturing to him. 

As Lance turned to look at Keith, he could feel his whole body heat up as if he were being set on fire. Butterflies fluttered angrily in his stomach. He couldn’t control how nervous he was becoming. That is, until Lance opened his damned mouth.

“So, you’re the hot-shot racer huh?” Lance gave him a once over, eyeing him up and down. “You don’t look like much to me.” 

Keith’s brows furrowed, first in confusion, then in anger. 

“Excuse me?” Keith spat, rising from his chair to stand toe-to-toe with Lance. His attempt at intimidation quickly faltered when he realized he still had to look up to meet Lance’s gaze. 

Lance smirked, clearly amused, and not at all threatened by Keith’s defensive display. 

“Come on, mullet, I wanna talk to you about a few things before you take off with Red.” Lance spoke as he opened the door and waited for Keith to follow.

“R-Red?” Keith wondered out loud. 

Lance simply rolled his eyes. “Your bike, man. Keep up.” he said as he disappeared behind the door. Keith looked to Hunk, who only motioned for him to follow.

Words were flying out of Lance’s mouth about as fast as Keith could fly around a track, and with his long legs Keith had trouble keeping up, having to break into a slight jog. 

“Did you get all that, sweetheart?” Lance whirls on him just as Keith can catch up, nearly sending him flat on his ass. 

“U-Um…” Keith stammers. 

“Look,” Lance mutters in a low voice, brandishing a wrench at him. “When you bring your bike in I prioritize working on it, the least you can do is pay attention to me.”

“I-I’m sorry I’m just a little… Wait… Prioritize? Why?” 

“ _ Hmph _ . You might not be much, but her,” Lance said moving over to the bike, his eyes softening as his fingers swept delicately over the curvature of her frame. “Red’s a thing of beauty.” 

Keith didn’t know weather that was a compliment or an insult, but decided not to pursue it either way. 

“Why do you call her Red?” Keith asked. Lance gave Keith the most incredulous look he’s probably ever gotten in his life. 

“Uh.. because she’s red, dude.” he answered.

“N-No, I mean, I get that, b-but why… did you name her?” Keith pressed further.

“Something this nice should have a name.” Lance spoke softly, the tips of his fingers coming to rest of the handlebar.

Keith noted the softness of his face in that moment. The sparkle in his eye. The curve of his lips as they formed a warm smile, the way they parted ever so slightly revealing just a bit of the whiteness of his teeth.  _ Stop staring at his mouth! _ Huh?  _ Stop it! _ How?  _ Just STOP! _

“You with me, hot-shot?” Lance waved a hand in front of his face. He jerked up from where he was slouching slightly, and shut his mouth from where it was hanging open.  _ Keep it together, Kogane. _

“Y-Yeah, fine. And my name is Keith.”

Lance narrowed his eyes. “Well anyway,  _ Keith _ , I don’t really feel like repeating what I was saying to you earlier so I’ll just have Hunk shoot an email to Shiro later with the details. Since you don’t seem to be… all there.” 

“Wh-What do you mean I’m not all there?” Keith protested, but he knew exactly what Lance meant. He just hoped Lance thought he was a bit off and not a bit… Anyway.

Lance was already shaking his head and leaning over to grab something off the workbench. “Man, I don’t know how you became a racer, you can’t even understand half of what I’m telling you.” He took his hand, dropping the key inside. “Good thing you have Shiro to explain all these complicated words to you.”

The sudden skin contact sent a wave of heat up Keith’s body, and honestly he couldn’t tell if it was nerves or rage. But before he could even register or process what he was feeling, Lance was already pulling away and leaning back against the concrete wall, arms crossed boldly over his chest. That self-assured smirk playing on his lips.  _ UGH! _

Keith clenched his jaw and grit his teeth. How dare he be the most infuriating person he’s ever met and have the audacity to look like that! 

“Listen,  _ Lance _ ,” Keith spoke up with as much confidence as he could muster. “I’m having a weird day, okay?”  _ Is that what you’re gonna call it?  _ “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t constantly belittle me.”  _ Yeah, you tell him, Kogane.  _ “You know, I could take my business elsewhere.”  _ Ohh nice one you idiot. _

He was prepared for Lance to tell him to fuck off. Go on then. Take your bike and get out. What he was not prepared for was for Lance to push himself off the wall, stalk towards him and invade his personal space. 

Keith swallowed the lump on his throat as Lance advanced on him. Oh no. He was about to get decked. Keith knew he could hold his own in a fight, but right now he was too nervous, too flustered, too caught off guard to even move. And by the time the idea to defend himself crossed his mind Lance was already in his face. 

But instead of the angry sneer that Keith expected, Lance wore a smile. That stupid smirk that looked so good on him. Instead of balled fists ready to be thrown, his hands were situated lazily on his hips. His eyes flickered over Keith’s face and he wondered if Lance could feel the heat that was making him break out in a sweat. 

Lance laughed once, low in his throat, sending chills up Keith’s spine. They were so close, Keith could feel his breath on his face.  Keith’s own breath hitched as he inhaled, and all he could smell was Lance. He smelled of motor oil, sweat and gasoline, and not as bad as one would think those things smelled like together. Lance’s eyes flickered down for a moment as Keith bit his lip, then up again, grin widening. Obviously enjoying how flustered Keith was becoming.

“You won't.” Lance hummed softly. And Keith knew he was right. He wouldn’t. As irritating as he may be, Lance was an amazing mechanic, and Keith would be stupid to go to anyone else. Lance had him by the short hairs and he knew it. 

Finally, he pushed past Keith like a saloon bar door, “Anyway, you’re good to go. If you’re fastness will excuse me, I have got to go wash my face.”

Keith turned and was about to retort but quickly snapped his mouth shut when Lance shot him a smirk and a wink, “Hasta la later, Keith.”


	2. Chapter 2

“I hate him, Shiro! Hate! Him!”

Keith threw open the door to his apartment, not even caring about the dent the doorknob would surely leave in the wall behind it. 

“He’s literally the worst person I have ever met.” 

His keys clanged sharply against the countertop as he practically slapped them down on it. Almost immediately he checked to make sure he hadn’t broken a key, and turned to eye the new dent in the wall from the door.  _ Please stop or you’ll destroy the whole damn building. _

“Lance certainly… is a character. He definitely knows how to get under your skin. He’s actually a really great guy once you get to know him.”

Shiro’s voice was calm, as if he’d expected as much. Keith almost wanted to take a jab at him for... for…  _ you could have warned me! You could have told me this guy was a complete jerk! And what’s with this ‘get to know him’ talk? Does he actually expect me to get to know him? Form some kind of friendship with that.. that…  _

“You’re still gonna take your bike to him right?” The sound of Shiro’s voice cut through his thoughts and he breathed a heavy sigh.

“Yeah, I mean I really have no choice.” Those words were like poison on his tongue. How could he let anyone give him no other option? Him? Keith Kogane? Backed into a corner… of sorts.  _ I have no choice.. Not if I wanna win. _

“Alright, why don’t you get some sleep, buddy? I’ll see you down at the track tomorrow morning.” 

“Alright… yeah, see ya.”

Keith set the phone down and leaned on the countertop for a moment, trying to think about what to think about other than Lance the mechanic. Though it wasn’t working as well as he’d hoped. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Lance there in front of him, only inches away with that smirk on his face like a predator that had cornered it’s prey and was now just toying with it before going in for the kill. 

Keith’s heart raced and he scrubbed his hands over his face trying to will his thoughts in another direction. Please, anything else,think about anything else. 

Shiro had basically told him to endure, but did he realize how hard that was going to be? No, of course not because he didn’t understand. Keith barely understood. Keith told him he hated Lance, and boy does he hate Lance, but he doesn’t really want to and therein lies the problem. 

But then another thought crosses his mind.

It’s not like he had to see Lance that often. Only when his bike needed work done. Which wasn’t too often. And according to Hunk, Lance didn’t like to be disturbed while he was working, and from Lance’s track record of never being there when Keith is there, it’s likely he wouldn’t be seeing very much of him at all. 

As much as Keith tried to cheer himself up on the thought, he still felt a tinge of disappointment. Did he really not want to see Lance again?  _ You really do want to see him, stop trying to lie to yourself. _

At that asinine thought he let out a huff and headed straight for the bathroom. A nice, relaxing shower was what he really needed right now. 

But even then he couldn’t escape his thoughts. 

Lance might be in his own home right now. In his own shower. Washing away the grease and grime and sweat of a hard day’s work. Running his fingers through his hair and down over his chest and… and… 

Probably not being tortured by thoughts of some “hot-shot” racer. How dare he? He’s probably humming some shitty song with that shitty smile on his face and getting ready to lay in his shitty bed and get some shitty sleep and not think about Keith at all! Here Keith is being plagued by him and Lance is still being an asshole and doesn’t even know that he’s doing it!

_ Keith, man, can you chill? Calm down.  _

He reached for the knob and twisted, gasping as the water turned suddenly so cold, but forcing himself to stay there. His chest heaved and for a moment it worked, for a moment the only thing on his mind was how damn cold it was.

Wearily he threw himself onto his bed face first, staring at some spot on the wall, trying to clear his mind enough to fall asleep. 

Hopeless was how he felt. How could one person just blow into his life like a hurricane and leave him an absolute wreck in one day?

And again, what really adds insult to injury is the fact that Lance probably hasn’t given Keith a second thought. 

Keith curled up and threw the blanket over himself, wrapping up tightly in it, suddenly so cold. Not like the cold shower helped much, but it was a different kind of cold. The lonesome kind.

A lot of people considered Keith a lot of things: stoic, broody, withdrawn, a lone wolf. But Keith wasn’t like that at all, not on the inside at least. 

Keith was passionate and impulsive and spirited and, but most importantly he hated being alone. 

He curled tighter into himself, gripping the blanket closer, trying to shake the chill. He gazed despondently at the other side of his bed, hoping that someday someone might occupy it and leave him a little less lonely. How nice it would be to have someone to hold at night.

*

“You think that Keith guy will come back?”

Lance stood beside hunk leaning on the glass countertop, head propped in his hand and gazing trance-like out the window. A small smile danced across his face.

Hunk chuckled. Lance thought he could fool everyone, and he might have fooled Keith, but there was no fooling him. 

“I don’t know, Lance. I think you might have scared the poor guy away.” he answered with an air of jest. 

“Oh, come on. I wasn’t that hard on him… was I?” 

The smile on Lance’s face was suddenly gone and replaced by a nervous frown. Poor Lance. Hunk almost wanted to stop teasing him. Almost. 

“If you had said those things to me the first time we met I would have knocked you out.” Hunk explained.

“No you wouldn’t have.” Lance protested with narrow eyes. 

Hunk shrugged, “Okay, Maybe  _ I _ wouldn’t have. But that doesn’t mean someone else, anyone else, might not. I think you got real lucky you caught him by surprise.”

Lance’s brows furrowed, “Whatever.” he mumbled with a pout. 

Hunk snickered quietly behind his hand, seeing Lance this dismayed was really very amusing. Only for a short time though. Hunk was anything but cruel. 

“Relax, man,” he said as he gave Lance a thump on the back. “Everything’s gonna be fine. I talked to Shiro this morning, by the way, before you got here. He did mention Keith was… agitated, but he assured me that he would remain a repeat customer.”

At Hunks words Lance seemed to perk up, and his whole expression changed like the clouds giving way to bright sunny day. 

“Really? … I-I mean of course he is, I am the best after all.” he said as he poked his thumb into his chest that was puffed out with tremendous pride. 

“Maybe you wouldn’t have to worry about losing customers if you’d just have some respect for people.”

Lance latched himself onto Hunk as tight as he could at hearing the voice from somewhere behind him. 

“Oh, it’s you,” he said spotting Pidge standing with her back against the wall. “Why do you have to sneak up on me like that?” 

“Serves you right for all the stuff you put us through. This is just payback.” she replied. 

“Pidge is right, Lance.” Allura, the manager, spoke up as she walked briskly from her office. “You need to hone your, uh, customer service skills a bit more. Or all your precious clientele will be run off.”

“Or else keep your butt in the back where you belong.” Pidge added with a smirk. 

“Like you belong up here either,  _ apprentice _ .” retorted Lance. 

“Why don’t you both get your butts back here and get to work. I could use some help.” Coran said as he appeared from the back. 

“Lance, before you go, I have some paperwork that needs to be given to Shiro. I thought maybe you could pop down to the racetrack on your lunch break and deliver it yourself.” Allura said, giving Lance a sly smile. 

“Oh um… a-alright.” Lance said as he eyed Allura curiously, wondering why she was giving him that weird look. 

As soon as he, Pidge and Coran had disappeared into the back to begin their work, Hunk and Allura both began to giggle.

*

“You’re distracted. You’re not focused and it’s slowing you down. Not to mention you could get hurt.” 

Shiro’s voice was firm as he approached Keith, who sat idly on on his bike. He hadn’t even removed his helmet yet. He knew he was slow, he knew he was losing focus and he knew exactly why. 

Keith had hoped that getting back on the track would be a perfect distraction and he could finally relax, just like any other time he raced. But not this time. Not since yesterday. 

“Take off that helmet and tell me what’s wrong.” Shrio insisted. 

Keith obeyed, slipping the helmet off and turning slowly to Shiro.

“You’re not still upset about Lance, are you?” Shiro questioned.

“I’m not upset. I mean I am but… it.. It’s different. It’s.. “ Keith stumbled over his words trying to find the right ones to explain why he was so distracted. But how do you explain it when you don’t even get it yourself?

Thankfully Shiro seemed to understand, so Keith assumed, and he laid a calming hand on Keith’s shoulder.

“Sometimes… when you want something that seems out of reach… it can be hard to stay positive. You can’t let it hold you down, and if you hold onto hope… sometimes the universe is kind and things just seem to fall right into place.”

As inspiring as that short spiel was, or was supposed to be he guessed, Keith didn’t quite know what to make of it. Was he talking about Lance or was he talking about racing? Or did he not quite understand after all and was talking about something else entirely?

“Uh.. Thanks, Shiro.” he said with a soft smile. 

“You’re welcome, now get out there and give me a good run.” Shiro encouraged. 

Keith found himself a little more focused, mainly because he was still trying to make sense of Shiro’s speech, and not thinking about tan skin and cocky smiles. 

When you want something. What did Keith want? He wanted to win, that’s for sure. That was first and foremost on his list of things he wanted. He wanted nothing more than to make it big, like Shiro, surpass him even if possible. 

He supposed Shiro could have been talking about his racing. 

When things seem out of reach. Winning didn’t seem out of reach for Keith, he knew he could, it was just a matter of doing it. So that wasn’t quite right. 

If Shiro was in fact referring to his performance and thought that Keith was just nervous about the big race coming up than he had misunderstood his discomposure completely. 

As much as he didn’t want to to admit it, this was about Lance, and why he had Keith’s thoughts in such a state is disarray. 

Shiro usually had a knack for reading people, even without them having to say much, so Shiro misunderstanding Keith was highly irregular. His explanation was short and vague but any idiot would have figured out that the source of Keith’s distress was Lance. He thought he got that, at least, through. Keith wondered for a moment if maybe Shiro was the one who was distracted today. 

Unless…

He  _ was _ talking about Lance.

Things that you want.

Keith chanced a quick glance over at Shiro. His heart leapt into his throat.

Lo and behold, the mechanic in question was standing there beside the seasoned racer and they were both looking right at him. 

Keith might have faltered, but his desire to keep his cool in front of Lance kept that from happening. Surprisingly it worked. 

Things that you want.

_ I want to impress him. _

_ Why? Was it because he insulted you as a racer yesterday? Do you feel the need to regain your honor? To prove yourself? What do you hope to accomplish by impressing him? _

_ I want… _

By then he was already leaning into a turn. His heart raced as the asphalt came closer and closer. This was the thrill he’d been missing today. Then he was up again and leaning the other way. His heart pounded in his chest and he felt alive and he and his bike were like one as he whipped around the track in the time he knew he should have been driving all along. 

Underneath his helmet a big grin was plastered onto his face.

Lap after lap and turn after tight, hairpin turn Keith felt his tensions melting away and leaving him lighter and faster and flying around the track with ease. 

He even forgot for a moment what had had him so upset and distracted in the first place. Till he saw it standing on the side of the track next to Shiro, with his arms crossed and a smile on his face, watching his every move. 

_ Who cares? I’m owning the pavement right now! _

“What do you think?” Shiro inquired as Keith sped by them. 

“Meh,” Lance said with a shrug. “I’ve seen better.” 

“He’s trying,” Shiro explained. “And you should try cutting him some slack.” 

Lance frowned. Shiro, as always, was right. He was being unnecessarily hard on Keith for no reason at all but to just give him a hard time. Well, there was a reason, but that wasn’t Keith’s fault and he had no business taking it out on him. It’s not like Keith knew anything about Lance, knew anything about his past. So to him Lance was just being a grade A jerk. 

“You can’t keep holding people to impossible standards just because of one bad person.” Shiro spoke a bit softer this time, cautiously laying a hand on his shoulder.

“I know, Shiro, I know.” Lance huffed and rolled his eyes. 

Shiro left his side as Keith crossed the finish line and Lance followed to meet him on the track. 

As Keith pulled the helmet off his head Lance felt both a sense of dread and a flutter in his heart as Keith ran his fingers through his hair. 

“Now that’s what I’m talking about. That’s the kind of racing I like to see.” Shiro praised as they stopped just beside him. 

Lance felt a bit guilty as the smile on Keith’s face disappeared when they finally locked eyes. 

“What are you doing here?” Keith asked.

“I, uh… Shiro… I had some paperwork to deliver to Shiro,” Lance said, regaining some of his composure. “And after meeting you yesterday I wanted to come see if you were as good as they say you are, and if you’re as good as Red deserves.”

“And?” Keith asked, leaning forward on the fuel tank cover. 

Lance felt something sharp in his back and realized it was Shiro’s elbow. Now hard, but hard enough to convey a message: It’s not his fault, cut him some slack.

“Not bad, hot-shot. I think you do Red justice.” Lance said with his signature cocky smile. 

A blush broke on Lance’s face as a small smile appeared on Keith’s and he quickly looked away hoping he wouldn’t notice.

“Anyway I should get back to the shop, Coran will be wondering where I am.”

“Take care, say hello to everyone for me.” Shiro said.

“Will do,” Lance spoke as he began to walk away. “Bye Shiro, Red… Keith.” 

When Lance was out of sight Shiro turned to look at Keith and caught him a daze state still staring at where Lance disappeared, still draped over his bike with a soft smile tugging at his lips. 

“C’mon ‘hot-shot’, why don’t we call it a day and grab some food.” Shiro spoke, pulling Keith out of his thoughts. 

“Y-Yeah, alright.” 

*

“Shiro?” Keith said softly as he laid the menu he was looking at down.

“Hmm?” Shiro hummed.

“What you told me… back at the track… did you… did you understand what I was talking about?” Keith stuttered. 

The waitress came by and gave them their drinks, then took off again to wait on another table. 

“Oh, yeah. You like Lance.” Shiro answered casually, as if to him it shouldn’t have been that big of a deal.

“I mean.. I guess… he’s a good mechanic... and I suppose he’s not that much of a jerk.” Keith muttered as he took a sip of his drink.

Shiro laid down the menu he had been reading and stared right at Keith with a knowing smile.

“No, I mean you  _ like like _ him.” he said.

At that moment Keith was glad he hadn’t taken a huge sip and was able to cover his face so no one would see the liquid coming out of his nose.

Shiro, on the other hand, did notice and had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing out loud. 

Keith grabbed a bunch of napkins and held them over his face.

“It’s not funny.” Keith tried to say, muffled by the napkins covering his mouth. 

“C’mon, it’s a little funny.” Shiro chuckled. 

Keith mumbled something under his breathe and too muffled for Shiro to hear.

“Hey, you like him, so what?” Shiro said as he picked his menu back up. 

Keith cleaned himself up as discreetly as he could, but he knew his face was still beet red.

“So?… he hates me.” Keith answered. 

“Lance is incapable of hating anyone, well maybe one person… but it’s not you.” Shiro said. 

Keith’s brows furrowed in confusion. Who did Lance hate? And what did they do to make him hate them? But he decided not to inquire any further, that wasn’t his business after all. 

“But you have to admit, he doesn’t  _ like _ me.” Keith argued. 

“Remember what I said about staying positive and hope?” Shiro asked. 

Keith frowned, “Y-Yeah, I rememb-”

“So what can I get for you boys?” The waitress asked with a bright smile. 

Shiro ordered first while Keith was lost in his thoughts. Staying positive? And hoping? What kind of nonsense was that? Since when did the universe dump onto you the things that you want most in life just by being positive? 

Things that you want.

_ What do you want? _

_ I want to win. _

_ What else? _

_ I want… to win him. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanna give a shoutout to Penny_Candy (littlepennycandy on tumblr go follow) (Whose drabble fic Oops is just amazing so go check it out) for giving me the motivation to keep writing and some nice inspiration fr the story.  
> Also shoutout to everyone that commented on that last chapter, I live for your feedback.  
> I'm stealing-klances over on tumblr if you wanna come chat :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> here, have this angsty lance-centric chapter

“Lance, I’m just changing spark plugs, I think I can handle it.” 

Pidge shot a glare over her shoulder at the other mechanic who was crowding her personal space. Lance had been hovering over her for the past 10 minutes, and floating around the shop all that morning, starting projects and not finishing them.

If Pidge was paying any attention to him she might have noticed how distracted he seemed today. But she had better things to do than to focus on how ridiculous Lance was being. Or, being more than usual.

On any other day she might have asked him what was wrong, listened to him talk and even offered some advice. But Lance was being annoying and she just wanted him to be as far away from her as possible right now. 

“I know, I just wanna make sure you’re doing it right.” he replied, taking a cautionary step back.

Pidge turned back to her work with a huff, “I’ve seen you do this a million times I think I got it. Don’t you have other things to do? Like ordering those parts you need? Help Coran? Something?”

“She’s right, Lance. Pidge can manage on her own. Why don’t you come over here and help me change these tires?” Coran suggested.

Coran was right. Pidge could manage on her own. Lance was the one who taught her after all. And it was probably best to leave her to it before he royally pissed her off. The last time he hovered too long he had narrowly avoided a socket wrench to the forehead. The mechanic thought it best not to push his luck, lest this time it be something bigger, heavier, or more aerodynamic launched towards him. He warily eyed the tools lying on the floor next to her before going to help Coran.

Lance’s head was definitely in the clouds today, daydreaming. And he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t about a certain mullet-wearing, hot-shot racer. But he’d never admit that out loud, especially not around the shop. There was already enough they wouldn’t let him live down. No need to add this to the ever growing list. 

As he fell into a practiced routine he knew well enough to perform with his eyes closed, he let his thoughts once again wander, specifically to Keith and the skill with which he tore up the track the other day. 

Lance’s ran his hand over the curve of the tire. He thought of the way Red's tires had hugged the track and the insanely deep angles Keith had taken around the turns. Only gyroscopic forces kept him from scraping himself across the pavement.

Lance was impressed, not that he’d admit that either, but Keith was every bit the racer everyone said he was. 

Though his racing skills weren’t the only thing on Lance’s mind since then.

That little tight jumpsuit of his had Lance’s mind in a tizzy. How dare he look so good in it? Tight in all the right places, and Keith bent over the fuel cover, staring right at him from behind the tinted visor of his helmet, practically teasing him. 

Lance’s breath hitched at the mental image, his neck and face becoming unreasonably warm, and he ran a hand gently along the seat of the bike.

“Hey Lance!”

His hands shot up into the air and he let out an ear-piercing screech, one that he’d later deny. A wrench he’d been holding flew across the shop and nearly hit Pidge. 

Pidge let out a shriek that echoed Lance, then turned to him with a blazing fury in her eyes. 

“Lance!” she fumed.

“It was an accident!” he blurted.

But before he could get another word out of his mouth, and before she could choose a weapon of her own to retaliate with, he felt himself being pushed towards the front of the shop. 

“For your sake, Lance, I suggest you man the front store room for the rest of the day.” Coran said.

“What? But that’s Hunk’s job.” Lance protested.

“Yes, and I’m sure he could use some help.”

Lance groaned, “But Coran-”

“We’ll let you back in as soon as your head’s screwed rightly on your shoulders.” he explained, opening the door to the front room. “Until then, enjoy some nice relaxing item cataloging.” 

Lance stumbled a bit as he was shoved inside. The door shut quickly behind him with a loud bang and he winced.

“Oh, hey Lance… What happened?” Hunk asked from across the room where he was taking inventory.

Lance stepped forward and leaned on the counter, placing his chin in one hand and looking absolutely, completely and utterly defeated. 

“I got booted from my own garage.” he mumbled dejectedly.

“Oh. Bummer. Hey can you hand me that clipboard? And if you don’t mind, could you sort those work orders?” 

“Yeah, yeah. Here you go.” Lance said as he tossed Hunk his clipboard, who caught it with ease. He then began sorting through the stack of work orders sitting on the counter. 

At first he was angry. How dare they kick him out of his own garage? He owned this place! They had no right. He should be back there, changing oil, not up here pushing pencils or.. or being a desk jockey for quiznack’s sake. 

After awhile though he was able to calm down, and understand why Coran had banished him from the back shop. Lance was distracted, and distracted around heavy machinery and power tools was a recipe for disaster. Better to sort through this infernal paperwork than to put lives in danger, all because your mind just isn’t on it’s game today. 

Though he understood, that didn’t mean he wasn’t still angry. But he was more angry at himself for letting his mind do this to him. Traitor.

_ If you just focused a bit more you would still be in the back, doing what you’re good at. This is ridiculous. You don’t do paperwork. That’s why when you inherited this place you gave Allura the management position, so you could stay in the back where you belong. But you just had to go and lose focus, just had to think about that stupid racer and his stupid mullet and his stupid pretty eyes and that stupid warm smile and his stupid tight a- _

“Lance, do you think you could… Lance? Are you okay?” Hunk asked.

“Yes!” he said, slamming his hand down on the stack of paperwork, afraid that he might do a repeat performance of what happened in the back of the shop. 

He then leaned on the counter casually, as if he hadn’t just lost his cool a moment earlier. “I mean… yeah, I’m fine. What’s up?”

Hunk raised an eyebrow at him, “Dude you’re turning red. Are you feeling okay? You’re not sick are you?” 

He sighed, “No, I’m not sick, I’m fine. I was just… thinking…”

Which was the worst possible thing Lance could have said. Hunk was a genius, and his best friend, and if anyone knew him better than he even knew himself it was Hunk. Lance might be able to fool a lot of people, but nothing he could do could ever get by Hunk. He was just too observant for his own good.

And sure enough when Lance looked up Hunk wore a grin that could give the cheshire cat a run for it’s money.  _ Oh no… _

“It wouldn’t happen to be about Keith… would it?” he bantered.

“No!” Lance snapped, a little too defensively. 

“I bet you are. You’re probably thinking: Oh I wish I could see Keith right now, what with his pretty eyes and his dark flowing locks and such.” Hunk teased.

A blush broke out across the bridge of Lance’s nose and he quickly looked away before Hunk had time to notice. 

“I am not. And I don’t sound like that.” he grumbled. 

“Yeah, okay.” Hunk mocked. “Says the guy who hasn’t been in his right mind since he met him.”

“ _ Hmph _ .” 

Lance continued his work with narrowed eyes and furrowed brows, trying his best to concentrate on the task at hand. Which was even harder to do now that Hunk had seen right through and exposed him. At least it was only Hunk.

“You know I bet he likes you too.” Hunk spoke after a few minutes, breaking the silence and what was left of Lance’s concentration.

“W-What?” 

“When you first met, and you were being an asshole, he seemed really flustered. And not just the angry kind either. Maybe if you were halfway nice to him ya’ll could be friends… maybe even more.” Hunk elaborated.

Lance groaned. “For the last time, Hunk, I do not like him. I don’t care if he’s head over heels for me, it’s not gonna happen. Okay?”

“Come on, Lance. Quit lying. You like Keith. What’s wrong with that? He seems like a nice guy.” Hunk remarked, shrugging casually.

“I don’t like Keith.” Lance growled. “I don’t like racers.”

“Lance not all racers are like-”

Lance shot Hunk a seething glare that if it had been anyone else, might have killed them instantly, or at least scared them enough to drop it. Unfortunately Hunk was immune by years of exposure, and glared right back.

“You constantly flirt, and act like you want somebody, but you never give anyone the time of day.” Hunk argued. 

“I would give someone the time of day, just not him. Not a stupid-”

“Shiro used to be a racer, do you hate him too?” Hunk interjected. 

Lance snapped his mouth shut and pressed his lips together into a thin line, clearly agitated, clearly not wanting to have this argument.

“Shiro’s different.” he grumbled, returning to his paperwork. 

“And why can’t Keith be different? Why is Shiro okay but Keith’s not?” Hunk bellowed. “Keith has never given you any reason to think of him that way. Not ever. You barely let him speak to you as it is. So how can you pass judgement on the guy before you even get to know him?”

Sometimes having Hunk as a best friend was not all in his favor. When someone else might have backed off and let Lance stew in his own vexation, Hunk continued to prod. Any other time it might have been alright, and Lance would willingly allow it to happen. Because Hunk was his best friend after all, and he knew Hunk would never try to hurt him. But even best friends can cross the line every now and again.

“Because… because… !” Lance sputtered, trying to form a coherent response and failing miserably. 

Hunk stood firm, arms crossed over his chest challengingly, waiting for an answer. 

Lance’s jaw clenched, and his knuckles were white from where his fists were fixed into tight balls that began to shake as his anger rose.

Hunk knew exactly the reason why, yet he pushed anyway. Lance knew he meant well, he knew that Hunk was just trying to get him to lighten up. But Hunk would never know what it felt like, and he’d never understand what made Lance this way. Lance could explain it all he wanted, till he was blue in the face, but nobody would ever really know what he went through and why the subject was so touchy. 

“Shiro is the only exception!” he exploded. “Do you see me out there galavanting with anyone else at that fucking race track? No! I can trust Shiro because I’ve known him for so long. I just met Keith, and like fucking hell if I’m gonna let my guard down because he ‘seems like a nice guy’. You know who else ‘seemed like a nice guy’ at first!? I won’t make the same fucking mistake twice!”

Tears began to well up at the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill over along with his rage. His teeth began to ache from how tightly they were clenched and his whole body started to quake as a sob formed in the back of his throat. 

“Lance I… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” Hunk spoke softly.

He took a step forward, but stopped when the bell chimed, and they both turned to see Shiro and Keith standing in the doorway. 

“Hey Hunk, La-” Shiro stopped short, eyeing Lance curiously.  

It was obvious by how red and agitated Lance was looking that something had gone down just before they had entered. Shiro turned from Lance to Hunk, silently asking for some explanation. 

Keith’s eyes were wide and questioning, and glued to Lance’s, which was a harmless act in and of itself. But to Lance is was adding fuel to the fire, which was already on the brink of becoming out of control. If Lance had been angry at Hunk he had forgotten all about it, because here was the object of his confliction. Staring him right in the face, in his own place of business no less, watching him have his meltdown. 

His vision swam with unshed tears and he wanted so badly to yell, scream, jump the counter and slug Keith in his stupid, pretty face. But he didn’t deserve that, Keith had no idea what he was walking into when he set foot inside the shop. He had no way of knowing anything about the argument he and Hunk were having or what it pertained to. And Lance was horrified at the thought of laying his hands on anyone undeserving purely out of spite.

“Lance? Are you okay?” Shiro spoke, the tenderness and concern in his voice was enough to pull Lance out of his angry stupor. He took a step back, closed his eyes, unballed his fists, and allowed himself a deep breath to steady himself as best he could.

“I’m going on break.” he finally muttered through gritted teeth, before fleeing down the hall towards the back rooms before anyone saw the tears spill over onto his cheeks. As if he was going to let Keith see him in such a weak, pathetic state.

“What happened?” Shiro questioned.

“Don’t worry about it, he’s fine. Or… he’ll  _ be _ fine. J-Just, forget it.” Hunk responded hastily. 

“Are you sure? He seemed really upset.” Keith said. 

“Yeah, don’t worry. He just needs some time to himself. So, what brings you in today?” Hunk inquired, desperate to change the subject.

“Well… I have a preliminary race in a few days, and Red’s making a funny noise. I was wondering if… someone could look at her.” Keith replied.

Keith’s casual use of Lance’s pet name for his bike put a smile on Hunk’s face. And he was sure Lance would have appreciated it too, if he had heard it. 

“No sweat, man. When Lance comes back from his break he’ll give her a good look and you can come pick her up at the end of the day.” Hunk told him. 

“Great, Keith if you don’t mind waiting I’m gonna go talk to Allura for a minute.” Shiro said.

“No, go ahead.” Keith replied. 

Shiro made his way towards the manager’s office and Hunk decided to strike up Keith in conversation. He responded, and was friendly enough, but Hunk could tell he was still thinking about Lance. He hadn’t seemed content with Hunk’s answer when asked if Lance was alright, and his eyes would occasionally flicker down the hallway he had disappeared down. 

It was clear to Hunk that there was some kind of connection trying to be formed between the two of them. Keith’s expression spoke volumes on the unmistakable look of soft and subtle pining. If only Lance would acknowledge and act on his own feelings. Then maybe the two of them wouldn’t look so damn pitiful when they thought about each other all the time.

“You know… Lance isn’t usually an ass.” Hunk began, gaining Keith’s full attention. “He can actually be a decent human being. He just has some trust issues. He went through a really rough… situation, and it really messed with him. He’s actually is a great guy once you get to know him, and he starts to trust you.”

Keith didn’t respond, but he seemed to dwell on Hunk’s words in silent consideration.

“Ready to go?” Shiro spoke, emerging from the office room. 

Keith nodded, and they both said goodbye to Hunk and left.

*

Once he was safely inside the closet, and the door was securely locked, Lance let it all out. 

Violent sobs racked through his body and trembling hands moved to cover his face as he wept, as quietly as he possibly could. He definitely didn’t need anyone hearing him right now and coming to see what was wrong. Hunk wouldn’t come, he knew that Lance just needed some space, so he’d let him come out in his own time. But god forbid anyone else find him like this.

He slid down the door and curled up into a ball on the cold floor, mouth hung open in silent sobs and eyes screwed tightly shut. Salty tears stung and reddened his cheeks and all he could do was hold himself in an attempt to quell his quivering. 

It wasn’t even the argument with Hunk that had him a sniveling mess on the floor, it was just the memory and remembering and having to relive all those terrible moments. He had forgiven Hunk already, and he didn’t blame Keith in the slightest. Both of them had never done him wrong ever in his life. This was about more than some petty argument and some stupid crush. 

All he wanted to do was forget. Have his memory erased or go back in time to change it. Anything to forget what happened. Unfortunately both of those things were impossible and Lance would have to deal with the painful memories for the rest of his life, and even that thought alone was enough to force another painful sob out of his already dry throat.

He cursed the universe for dealing him the hand he was given, for allowing such a traumatic thing to happen and for placing that person in his life to begin with. Even now, free from the hell he had once endured, he could still be reduced to a pathetic whimpering bitch at the mere thought. How weak he must be to still let it get to him.

The door handle turned and then there was a soft knock.

“Lance?” Allura’s voice was soft and filled with concern. Had she heard him? He thought he had been quiet enough. Or maybe Hunk told her, thinking that perhaps this time someone ought to go after him, but not wanting to come himself. 

Lance didn’t answer, hoping she’d just give up and go away. But the doorknob began to rattle as she continued to attempt to open the door.

“Lance, open this door this instant.” she demanded. 

Lance knew better than to disobey her, and he sat up and clicked the lock before scooting further back to allow her entry. 

As the door opened he once again hid his face in his hands, not wanting her to see him in all his ugly snot-nosed, teary-eyed misery. 

“Oh sweetheart.” She sighed sympathetically as she kneeled down to him. 

As soon as she was situated beside him she pulled Lance into a tender embrace where he continued to sob against her shoulder. He clutched at her tightly and his torrent of tears soaked through her shirt in no time. If she cared she didn’t show it, she only continued to comfort him as he trembled in her arms.

Allura knew what happened, and what Lance had gone through. And if the person in question wasn’t already well enough away she might have taken matters into her own hands. Key words being might have. Obviously she wouldn’t have done anything rash. But let her catch said person alone, and she might have dealt some seriously painful, well deserved justice. 

Even now as Lance wept in her arms, still suffering, she felt that pang of fury and a need to protect. 

It felt good to have a shoulder to cry on, literally, and all Lance could do was cling to her as if his life depended on it and cry like there was no tomorrow. She rubbed his back affectionately and ran her delicate fingers through his hair, soothing his intense sobs down to gentle whimpers. 

After a few more moments Lance was silent, save for the occasional sniffle. But he still clung to her, and she allowed it, and she’d stay there as long as he needed her to. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings for this chapter include:  
> b slur  
> s slur  
> graphic depictions of violence  
> blood  
> mentioned abuse

He knew they were trouble as soon as they waltzed onto the track like they owned the damn place, glaring at anyone who stood even slightly in their way. 

Keith watched as they made their way to the starting grid, the riders rolling up on black and purple monsters of machines. 

Everyone seemed to know who they were, and parted accordingly, glancing away as to not catch their biting glares.

“They’re the Galra.” a voice had said somewhere to his side.

Keith turned to the young man who was standing beside him. He was tall, almost ridiculously so, smiling down at him lazily. 

“Rolo.” he said, offering his hand to the racer.

“Keith.” he replied, shaking his hand as a bit of a blush dusted his cheeks.  _ Keith Kogane is now really the time? _

“Haxus, Prorok, and Sendak make up the Galra team.” Rolo explained, “Don’t let the word “team” fool you though, the Galra are a gang. The big boss is some guy named Zarkon. These guys are just lowly thugs, but they’re still bad news so watch your back.”

“T-Thanks.” Keith said.

“Don’t sweat it. Good luck kid.” he told Keith with a wink before making his way to a female racer on the other side of the starting grid. 

As much as he wanted and needed to focus on the coming race, his attention was largely divided, and there was one thing he just couldn’t stop thinking about, even days after.

Lance. 

Something had really upset him the other day, and that was a weight in Keith’s mind. 

The fury in Lance’s eyes had been terrifying, fierce blue irises seemed to bore into his very soul. It might not have affected him so much if the mechanic hadn’t seemed to grow angrier the longer he held his gaze. 

Feeling as though he had walked in on something private that was never meant for him, Keith wanted nothing more than to turn tail and flee.

Two things stopped him from doing so: 1. Shiro’s immense, impassable form taking up the entire width of the doorway thereby blocking any kind of escape and 2. The look of utter despair he briefly glimpsed cross Lance’s face before he bolted like a frightened deer. 

After he went back to pick up Red at the end of the day, and Lance was conveniently nowhere to be found, Allura had assured him not to take the temperamental mechanic’s behavior personally. But that didn’t stop him from feeling a bit at fault, even if he wasn’t sure what he might have done.

It was clear that Keith had somehow stirred up ghosts of events long since dead, events that Lance clearly was not too fond of remembering. Lance, it seemed, was even more of an enigma now than before they met.

“You ready for this, Keith?” he heard Shiro ask him. 

He turned just in time to accept his helmet from the veteran racer as he approached. 

“Yeah, I won’t let you down, Shiro.” Keith proclaimed proudly. 

Shiro gave him a lopsided smile, “Keith, we talked about this, it’s not me you’re doing this for. Besides, if you try your best you’ll never let me down.”

The young racer gave him a weak smile before nodding and moving to mount his bike.

As soon as the light had flashed and the riders were moving, Keith had made his breakaway, moving up and into the coveted first place position that he would hold for the majority of the race. A position he skillfully took and jealously guarded. 

Moving around into the first curve felt a bit stiff, but by the hard turns of the narrow chicane, he and his tires were a bit warmer and moved with utmost grace. 

Keith could feel them right behind him the entire time. Glimpses of black and purple in his peripheral vision gave him the feeling of being chased, instead of the good rush he usually got from being out front. Their presence on the track gave him an overwhelming sense of impending doom that he just couldn’t shake.

Red snarled under him as he pushed her to her limits, desperate to put as much room between the him and the Galra as possible. However every time he seemed to achieve a reasonable distance, the Galra were hot on his tail, closing the gap. His heart beat wildly as he leaned around every curve, fighting to stay on the inside and maintain his leadership position.

Ever so slowly, they began to crowd him. By the time he realized what was going on, they were on him. 

They had him surrounded, pushing him to the outside and back. He cursed and grit his teeth as he tried to wedge his way back into position. 

They seemed to realize that the racer wasn’t giving up his lead without a fight and Keith saw the leader, Sendak, nod to the one called Haxus, who fell back and sidled up next to him. He didn’t even see Prorok move to his other side till their bikes bumped when he tried to move away. And before Keith could even comprehend what was happening, it was already too late. 

Everything happened so fast. One moment they were leaning into a turn, the next something jarred Red and she began to wobble. In the span of less than a second Keith became airborne, flying over the the handlebars of his bike as she fell to her side. 

The next thing he knew he was impacting the asphalt and began to skid like a stone skipping on a lake. Sparks flew from Red as she too skidded the pavement and Keith’s heart sank knowing she would be in serious need of repair.

A million thoughts raced through Keith’s mind as he began to slow down in the turf off the side of the track. There was no way he’d make it now. He lost. It was over. There was no chance of qualifying and he’d have to wait till next season to try again. 

For a moment he imagined just laying there till the race was over, and Shiro would come help him up, and he’d tell him he how proud he was and he did the best he could and there was always next year. Keith had a knack for taking his own personal disappointment and projecting it onto Shiro, believing that his mentor would see him as less of a person for his shortcomings. 

In his mind he was already making plans to practice more, train harder. He would spend every waking moment on the track if he had to.

_ Or you could get your ass up and finish this race. _

_ What’s the point? You’re already so far behind. _

_ Get up. Stay down. Don’t quit. Give up. You’re already screwed. You can still make it. Don’t let them think they’ve bested you. It’s all over you’ve lost. Not yet you haven’t. Get up. Get back on. Go. Finish. It’s hopeless. Shut up. Get up. Get back on. Go! Finish! _

Giving up was not his style and it most certainly wasn’t an option. He knew he’d never be able to forgive himself.

Keith was on his feet before he even had time to stop, and running to Red to pick her up and get back in the race. What was he thinking? There was no way he was going down without a fight and he’d come in last before he didn’t finish at all. Not that he planned on coming in last, mind you. 

The engine roared as she charged around the track, flying by the riders at the back of the pack and slipping further and further ahead. The pain of his graceless fall was now only a dull throb and continued to ebb the further up the pack he made it.

Until he was right behind the Galra team.

Try as he might, he fought to take back his stolen spot in the lead, but the riders were like an impenetrable wall that kept him at bay in the fourth spot slot.

In the end that’s where he finished. And while he qualified for the next race, he couldn’t suppress the anger he felt at the Galra for costing him his lead and a first place finish. 

In the pits just after the race he dismounted Red, yanked off his helmet in an angry haste and discarded it carelessly aside as he made to confront the three racers.

He marched, fists clenched and jaw taut, stringing together vicious words he planned to spit at them like verbal venom. His blood boiled as he neared them. Seeing their sneers and undeserved victorious chortling sent him into a frenzy and the edges of his vision tinted red.

He knew what it looked like, what they made it look like. He didn’t need to be told or see any replays to understand that they set up his fall to look like he had simply lost control on the turn. He had been there, he saw it and he knew. He knew it was strategically done, and there was no way to prove it in his favor. But that wouldn’t stop him from unleashing hell. 

The injustice of the situation only served to fuel his rage.

Just before he reached them though and opened his mouth to commence his verbal assault, he was gripped by the forearm and tugged into a narrow alcove just out of sight.

“You really don’t want to be doing that.” a voice spoke, low and gruff, and he recognized it as Rolo’s.

Keith had to crane his neck to look up at him, and Rolo gazed back down at him sternly. They were pressed together firmly in the tight space, chest to chest. Keith could feel Rolo’s chest rise and fall against his own and whatever rage that had reddened his face was quickly replaced by a burning embarrassment as the flush consumed his entire body.

_ Keith, really? _

“You got a death wish or something, man? What do you think you’re doing?”

The incredulous tone of Rolo’s voice forced his bashfulness aside and he yanked his arm out of the other man’s grip.

“It wasn’t an accident! They crowded me a-and kicked my bike!” Keith fumed, fists clenched at his sides once again.

“Listen, I believe you. But no one else will. Look,” Rolo placed his hands carefully on Keith’s shoulders. “You made it, alright. You’re in the next race. I suggest you put what you learned here to good use.”

Keith scoffed and forced his gaze to the floor, working Rolo’s words in his head and trying to decide whether to listen to him or not. Maybe he was right, and Keith was being rash to pick a fight. He did qualify, and in the next race he could be more careful knowing what he knew now about the Galra.

Shiro would most definitely not approve, and he’d probably be disqualified from any more races this season. That alone was enough to calm his frazzled nerves, and he nodded wordlessly, but continued to glower at the floor. 

Rolo, seemingly finished, went to move past Keith, but stopped and nudged his arm to gain the racers attention. Keith’s eyes flitted upward, and Rolo chuckled softly, amused by the childish pout Keith wore. This only embarrassed him more and Keith’s face was a fresh coat of pink as he stared into those lazy, lidded eyes.

“Don’t go doing anything stupid, okay?” 

And then he was gone, leaving Keith with his re-frazzled nerves and a new sense of urgency to find Shiro and distract himself. 

*

Keith splashed his face with cold water, then propped his hands on the edge of the sink to frown at his despondent reflection in the dirty men’s room mirror. 

Red had sustained some serious damage, but then again so had he. His race suit took the brunt of the road burns but he ached from head to toe from where he hit the ground again and again as he rolled like a ragdoll out on the track. He imagined he’d have some nice, colorful bruises and be almost too stiff to move by the next morning, but it was nothing a little rest couldn’t fix.

Red was his main concern. She was out of alignment and her radiator had begun to leak after the race. And that’s only what he knew of. There was no telling what else she needed done to her to get her back in racing order.

Lance was going to kill him.

A pang of guilt struck him and unsettled his stomach even more than it already was just thinking about Lance and the last time he saw him. It hurt to see him so hurt. And it hurt even more knowing he was the cause of it, but not knowing why.

He wished more than anything somebody would just open up and tell him what was wrong. What he did that made Lance hate him. 

_ “Lance is incapable of hating anyone, well one person... but it’s not you.” _

Yeah, right. Keith knew better than that. And the way Lance glared at him like he wanted to rip him to shreds was proof enough. 

All he wanted was for someone to explain it to him. Everyone knew, it seemed, except for him. He just wanted to know so he could make it right, so he could… do anything to earn Lance’s trust.

He was so lost in thought he didn’t even hear the bathroom door open and slam shut.

“If it isn’t Shiro’s little prodigy.” 

The voice sent chills down his spine and he turned quickly to see Sendak and the two others advancing on him, faces twisted in taunting smirks like vicious wolves cornering a kill and baring their teeth wickedly.

“Took a nice tumble out there, rookie. What happened? Couldn’t handle a little competition?” Sendak jeered.

Keith tried to hold his ground, but as they came closer, he began to inch away till his back hit the tile wall and he had nowhere left to go.

“Shiro never teach you how to race dirty, little rookie?” 

Keith swallowed hard and grit his teeth, determined to look fierce and somewhat like a threat, and not like he was outnumber and waiting for a chance to flee. Hopefully they were all bark and no bite, and taunts were all they came here to throw. But in the back of his mind he highly doubted it.

“What’s the matter, rookie? Cat got your tongue?” the one called Prorok teased.

Keith tensed, but remained otherwise motionless and quiet. He wasn’t sure what to say, so better to hold his tongue for now and let them get to the point of why they were cornering him in this dingy bathroom. 

“Listen, rookie, you got guts.” Sendak acknowledged. “I didn’t think you were gonna get up from that fall, not to mention finish in fourth. You’ve got a lot of skill, too. So here’s what I propose: You get rid of the old has-been racer... and join our team.”

Keith frowned, and his brows furrowed as he let Sendak’s offer resonate with him. 

Join them? The Galra? After what they did to him? His fall could have been worse, he could have been seriously hurt, or killed. 

Not to mention he wasn’t about to join a team whose idea of strategy was to cheat and injure other riders in the process.

And Shiro…

Shiro brought him this far, and like hell if he was going to turn his back on him now when he never turned his back on Keith for one second. If Shiro wasn’t disappointed before, he would be. There was no way Keith could live with himself losing the respect of his idol and close friend.

“No.” he finally spoke. 

Sendak frowned, “Come again, rookie?”

“No.” Keith repeated, a little louder.

Sendak scowled at him and took a step closer. “Listen, kid, if you wanna win then I suggest you rethink your answer.”

“I don’t need you to win.” Keith replied firmly.

Sendak growled, but Keith stood firm.

“Kid thinks he’s better than us.” Prorok commented.

“Probably thinks getting cozy with that hot in the ass mechanic is gonna give him some kind of advantage.” Haxus snorted. 

Lance? What? Keith’s eyes went wide.   
“McClain? Is that so?” Sendak observed with a smirk.

“Word is they’ve been getting awfully chummy.” Haxus replied.

Sendak laughed, and something about the intensity of it made Keith feel sick to his stomach. 

“So, he’s your little toy, is that it?” Sendak remarked, bursting into laughter again.

Keith was lost for words, and lost in every other sense of the word as well. What did they mean his toy? And who was getting cozy? His relationship with Lance was anything but, and he’d be the first to tell you so.

“You’re not the first, and you certainly won’t be the last, little rookie.” Sendak sneered.

“What are you talking about?” Keith blurted, brows furrowed further in confusion.

“He probably never told you.” Sendak began. “One of my boys took a real liking to him.” 

He made a gesture with his hands and Keith swallowed the lump in his throat and turned away. Sendak smirked, enjoying his discomfort and took another step forward, leaning down to get level with him.

“That didn’t bother me, it was none of my business. Lokval was young, full of potential and my best racer.”

Then his smirk turned downward and his face took on a more sinister, dangerous expression. 

He spoke low and grating through clenched teeth. “What bothered me was one day I find out my racer is in jail, and McClain’s the one that put him there.”

“He was brought up on felony domestic violence charges. A hefty jail sentence for putting a few marks on that little bitch.” Prorok scoffed.

“McClain might have put him behind bars but Lokval put him in the ER.” Haxus added with a sick grin.

Realization struck him like a jolt of lightening and all the pieces came together. He finally understood. Keith’s stomach, already upset and churning, was twisting in ways he’d never imagined it could. 

“So, I’m down one racer, my best one, and you can probably imagine how angry I was about it. Unfortunately I couldn’t retaliate; the little rat dropped names and we had to lay low for awhile. Otherwise he’d need a lot more than a hospital bed when I got done.” he divulged. 

Keith’s body began to tremor with pent up rage and hot angry tears sprang to his eyes. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what Lance had gone through at the hands of this Lokval, and the three Galra in front of him had the gall to talk about it like it was entertainment. 

“But I digress, and you should really think about reconsidering my offer.” he reiterated. “Or perhaps I should pay your little boy toy a well overdue visit.” 

All of the rage he felt before returned in full force and his whole body was flushed in red hot anger. His mouth went dry and he felt wound tight as a spring, ready to pounce like a wild cat. 

The wicked grin on Sendak’s face made Keith want to vomit, that and his obvious threat to seek out and do Lance bodily harm.

“Don’t talk about him like that. And you can forget it.” Keith seethed, fists clenching and unclenching, shaking violently. Blood rushing in his ears.

“Oh? Did I hit a nerve? You seem to be awful fond of that slut. I’ll be sure to let him know while he’s whimpering under my boot.”

Keith bristled and bared his teeth, eyes wide and wild, body rigid in an all-consuming rage. He was a volcano on the precipice of a violent eruption.

“I bet he’s real cute with tears in those pretty blue eyes.” Sendak taunted.

Keith didn’t even think, all thought process in his brain had shut down and he went straight into attack mode, hauling off a punch and striking Sendak right in the face.

The tall man staggered a bit and put a hand up to his mouth. When his fingers came away with blood, and Keith saw he had busted his lip wide open, Sendak snarled at him and returned a punch that took Keith by surprise. 

The force sent Keith reeling back into the wall hard enough to shatter a couple of the tiles. But Keith pushed forward again and attacked relentlessly, clawing desperately at Sendak as Prorok and Haxus tried to hold him back. 

He only managed one more punch before being shoved back and pinned against the wall by the Galra leader.

“Hold him there.” he ordered, and the two obeyed.

They gripped Keith by his upper arms and held him steady as he tried to struggle and free his himself. He wasn’t worried about escaping anymore though, all he wanted was to get his hands on Sendak. Make him bleed more. Make him know pain.

However, Keith was the one being familiarized with pain.

Sendak struck him mercilessly, and Keith could feel hot blood on his nose and chin and his face beginning to swell, groaning after every blow. His vision swam and he began to sway in the grip of the two men holding him upright. 

One last punch to the gut had him sinking to his knees where the Galra finally released him and threw him unceremoniously to the floor.

Sendak stood back, appraising the damage dealt, grinning madly as Keith sputtered on the floor. Every time he managed to get his arms under him to push himself up, Sendak would kick them out, letting him fall back against the cold tile floor.

“Shame it had to come to this, little rookie.” he started, circling Keith like a vulture around a corpse. A heavy boot pressed down against his cheek and Keith let out a strangled cry. “You would have made a good Galra.”

“Stop!” a voice boomed, and Keith lifted his head to look but found he could barely see. 

The boot pressing firmly against the side of his head was removed and he could hear Sendak turn towards the intruder. 

“Shiro, what a surprise.” the Galra spoke.

“Sendak.” Shiro spoke, fierce eyes flashing dangerously and glued to the Galra. 

“Step away from him.” Shiro commanded. 

Sendak raised his arms in mock defeat and did as he was told. “As you wish.” he quipped.

The veteran racer pulled out a baton which extended with a quick flick of his wrist.

Sendak barked a laugh, “You really expect me to-”

In one quick movement Shiro had crossed the distance between him and the Galra leader and smashed the baton into the side of his torso, then again against his kneecap. Keith heard the gut wrenching sound of bones snapping and Sendak falling to the floor in a heap, yelping in pain.

“Leave now.” Shiro’s authoritative voice snapped the remaining two Galra into motion, quickly scooping up their wounded leader and fleeing from the room as fast as they could. 

Shiro was at Keith’s side in an instant, and scooping him up as well.

“S-Shiro..” Keith choked.

“Keith, buddy, I’m sorry. Come on, let’s get you home and fixed up.” Shiro suggested as he hauled Keith up.

He felt Keith squeeze him by the arm as he tried to get the older man’s attention and speak to him coherently. Shiro stopped to listen.

“L-Lance… They’re…. going after… Lance.” was all he could manage to say.

“Okay, buddy, I’ll take care of it. Just relax. Rest. I’ve got you.” he spoke calmly, walking carefully as to not jostle the young racers battered body any more. 

“I’ll take care of it.” he said again. “Lance will be fine. You’ll be fine, too. Just relax.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lokval is not a canon character, he is an OC I made for this fic.
> 
> Also someone on tumblr said it was time for Keith to start getting beat up in fanfics. So... I'm really sorry. Please don't yell at me it gets better I promise. 
> 
> Come talk to me about this fic or anything voltron and/or klance related @stealing-klances on tumblr


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings: ptsd, detailed panic attack

Lance set down his tools and started the engine on the bike he had been working on all morning. She responded immediately, coming to life with a low roar and purring idly. After tinkering with her all day she finally was able to start for him. He smiled, and patted her lazily, satisfied with his work, and decided now was a good time for a short break.

With a contented hum he turned her back off just in time to hear the unmistakable rumble of Shiro’s truck pulling around the back of the garage. 

Great, he thought, some news from the track. 

Not that he cared who won the race though, or that he was secretly rooting for Keith. And it wasn’t like he had been wanting to see him either. At least that’s how he tried to play it off.

He hadn’t seen Keith since his breakdown the other day, and he wondered if the racer was angry with him, again. It’s not like he blamed him, Lance had channeled a lot of hate into that glare. He certainly wouldn’t have liked it if someone had given him a look like that, for simply walking into a place of business. 

Hunk was right, as usual, and after Lance had calmed down enough after his outburst he had to agree. And he felt like shit. He wished Keith would drop by long enough for him to apologize, for that and for being such an ass in general. 

Maybe now was his chance.

Grabbing a rag to wipe his hands on, he stepped outside to meet them, only to find that Shiro climbed out of the truck alone. He frowned, he wouldn’t be seeing Keith today either it seemed. Maybe he was just busy elsewhere, something to do with the next race. 

His heart sank, Keith probably didn’t want to see him anyway.

“Hey Shiro, how was the race?” Lance asked.

Shiro barely glanced his way, and replied a little too sullenly for his taste. “I’ll.. tell you about it in a second. First, help me with this.”

Lance climbed into the back of the trailer hitched to Shiro’s truck, but he stopped short when he noticed Red’s state of disrepair. He inhaled sharply, glancing briefly at the extent of the damage.

Once Red was out of the trailer Lance inspected her more closely, running his hands along her frame and coverings, adorned with angry gashes and cracks. The mechanic in him was trying to make mental notes of the wreckage before him, but all he could really think about was what had happened… and if Keith was alright.

“Shiro… what happened?” he spoke softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Keith fell during, but listen Lance there’s something I need to t-”

“Is he okay!?” Lance blurted, whirling around to face the racer, suddenly frantic.

“Yeah, he’s… he’ll be fine. Listen, let’s go inside and talk okay?” Shiro suggested.

Lance didn’t believe him, or like the way he answered the question with an air of dejection. But he let the older man lead him inside anyway, guiding Red into the garage as well.

Teeth worried his bottom lip as Shiro told him about Keith’s unfortunate crash. He glanced every so often at the mangled bike, studying the scars she now bore. His jaw clenched, and his whole body tensed as he imagined what it must have looked like, and how much it must have hurt. 

Shiro spoke as if it were no accident. The result of other racers, on purpose. His blood boiled. Who would be common enough to knock down another racer? Who could be that shiesty ?Who would race so dirty?

“Lance… It was Sendak... The Galra were there.” Shiro spoke.

The mechanic froze, a sudden chill sweeping over him. Goosebumps prickled his skin, stomach dropping and twisting into a hard knot. He immediately went to cover his mouth, fearing he might retch. 

“And… what about…”

“No, Lance, he wasn’t there. He’s still locked up, you know that.” Shiro said.

Lance frowned, “You don’t know that. They could have let him out early. For good behavior or some shit. Or he could break out or somet-”

Shiro gripped Lance by his shoulders, quieting the panic stricken boy. “Forget about him for right now, Lance. Sendak might be looking for you. You should probably stay with Hunk for awhile. Don’t go anywhere alone.”

“I… I need to sit down.” Lance breathed, gripping the edge of the nearby bench to steady himself before he collapsed, legs suddenly feeling gelatinous in structure.

Not finding anything to sit on nearby, Shiro helped Lance sink down to sit on the floor, kneeling beside the boy and holding a firm grip on Lance’s arm. His other hand he placed tenderly on Lance’s back.

His breathing became staggered and frantic, and he could feel himself begin to sweat. His ears began to ring and whatever Shiro was saying to him was drowned out completely. His mouth went dry, he became dizzy, nauseated even, his heart raced so hard he feared it might burst out of his ribcage and clear through his skin.

Sendak had never laid a finger on him, but Lance knew what he was capable of. He knew Sendak would be out for blood. It was a long time coming, but Lance never doubted the Galra race team leader would eventually come after him. It was only a matter of time. In reality he shouldn’t be so surprised, though that didn’t stop the feeling of horror that weighed heavily in his gut.

For the first time in a long time Lance was afraid; It felt both foreign and horrifyingly familiar. The feeling itself, the tightness of his stomach and the sound of his heart pounding in his ears, was enough to bring the memories rushing back. 

His body began to ache with every injury ever inflicted upon it, every tender bruise, fresh like it happened just a moment ago. He felt hands on him, gripping him tightly, pinning him down, fingers curling and squeezing around his throat. 

Lance jerked, flinching away from Shiro’s touch, fingers clawing desperately at the phantom hands that were crushing his windpipe. 

Shiro moved to take hold of him again, but thought better of it. Touching him would most certainly make it worse. Instead he called out to Lance, trying to snap the boy out of his vision, attracting the attention of the others who came rushing in in a frenzy.

Hunk and Pidge were at his side in moments with calm, soothing words, coaxing Lance out of his panic attack. The rapid rise and fall of his chest began to slow as his breathing evened out.

Once he had mostly returned, Hunk enveloped the mechanic in his arms, where Lance could huddle and catch his breath. He leaned on Hunk wearily, breathing deeply as Pidge rubbed his back in soothing circles.

“What happened?” Allura asked, looking to Shiro for an explanation, worry evident in her eyes as they flickered from him back to Lance curled up in Hunk’s lap.

“The Galra showed themselves at the race today.” Shiro explained as he stood. “I think they might come after Lance.”

Allura’s breath hitched sharply. “Then we must contact the authorities, I’ll g-”

“No!” Lance shouted, stopping her before she swept out of the room.

Lance knew better than anyone that there was nothing the police would or could do for him. A measly restraining order maybe, but when has a piece of paper ever protected anyone? Besides, it took a hospital stay just to put one of them behind bars. He didn’t want to think about what had to happen in order to rid himself of all of them.   
“How do you know this?” Pidge questioned Shiro. “Did they say something to you?”

“Not me.” Shiro replied darkly. “After the race there was an… altercation between Keith and them.”

Lance turned away from Hunk to observe Shiro, a look of fear ever present in his eyes, making his normally bright blue irises seem a sad, cloudy grey.

His voice cracked as he spoke, barely above a whisper. “What do you mean altercation?” 

“They… “ Shiro hesitated. “... cornered Keith after the race… Sendak told him they were going to come after you. Then there was a fight.”

“What!?” Lance cried. He made to stand but faltered, tripping over Hunk’s leg, and nearly fell face first into the floor had Pidge not been there to catch him. 

“He’s fine, Lance.” Shiro affirmed. “He’s at home resting right now. He’s going to be fine.”

“Shiro…” Lance whined, staring down the seasoned racer expectantly.

Shiro sighed concedingly, “When I got there Sendak had him on the ground… he was pretty roughed up. I-”

Lance didn’t stick around to hear any more. In the blink of an eye he was out of Pidge’s hands, out the door, and sprinting towards Keith’s. He was pretty sure there were protests, and shouts from his friends before he bolted from the garage, but he didn’t care, all he cared about was seeing Keith with his own two eyes. He had to know he would be okay for himself.

Though in his haste his sense of direction became disoriented. Even though he knew these streets like the back of his hand, his impulsive action left him oblivious to his surroundings. He needed to stop, catch his breath, find his bearings. Only for a moment.

Fortunately for him he spent a good deal looking at Red’s work orders, which happened to have Keith’s address on it. Good thing he memorized it, strictly for business purposes of course.

Looking around it didn’t take long for him to figure out where he was, and after that he was off again, running as fast as his legs could carry him, with no more plans to stop again. Only when he had reached Keith’s doorstep was he going to rest.

He hadn’t even considered that Shiro might have given him a ride there if he’d asked. He had just taken off without any thought whatsoever. Oh well, he wasn’t sure he could sit quietly in the vehicle anyway. At least when he was running his anxiety seemed to shrink from the forefront, replaced by pure heedless adrenaline. 

His legs ached, his lungs burned and his eyes watered from the sting of the wind. Now would be a horrible time to run into Sendak and the Galra. His fears and anxiety began to rise again as his body began to slow and tire. It probably would have been best if he hadn’t taken off so suddenly, and listened to the words of his friends. A quiet ride in Shiro’s truck was starting to sound better and better with every anxiety-riddled turn he took down those long, empty alleys. 

Relief washed over him for a brief moment when Keith’s building came into view. But that was before he remembered why he had been running there in the first place, and suddenly he was a fretful mess all over again, pushing himself harder and faster, ignoring the burning that consumed his entire being. Just a little further.

Keith was settled on the sofa, feet perched on the edge of his coffee table, flipping through the channels on the television. Nothing worth watching, not that he watched a lot of television to begin with. He couldn’t do much of anything else. Shiro had forbidden him from doing anything besides resting. At a time like this he would have loved to work out. 

Shiro had rushed him home, given him instructions for treating his injuries (that he barely remembered), and rushed back out to take care of Red, at Keith’s request and a bit of coercion. He didn’t want to be doted on, and he knew Shiro would. Besides, he was more concerned with leaving Red at the track unattended than his own well-being. 

Shiro reluctantly obliged, leaving Keith to his own devices, and promised to be back soon. Keith was hoping he would take his time, right now he just wanted to be left alone to stew in his thoughts.

It also meant that Shiro would be taking Red to McClain’s, and seeing Lance, and making sure he was alright. He would be warned, and hopefully by now they were already taking precautionary measures. 

His stomach churned again angrily just thinking about what might happen if Sendak were to get his hands on Lance. It would probably be much worse than what happened to him in that dingy bathroom. Sendak didn’t know Keith, there was no anger there, he had only wanted to rough him up out of spite. Lance though, he knew, and there was a grudge there because of what happened between Lance and Lokval. Sendak would not be so easy on the mechanic.

Anger boiled in his blood again remembering what Sendak said about Lance, and the faceless Galra who had apparently been Lance’s boyfriend. It’s a good thing the mother fucker was already behind bars, or Keith might have gone out looking for the bastard. Sendak and his cronies took him by surprise at the track, but Keith could hold his own and fight just as dirty if he tried. He’d love to teach the Galra a lesson about putting hands on somebody. 

But everything was fine. Lokval was in prison, the Galra were probably tending to Sendak somewhere, and Lance is probably safe at the shop, getting the lowdown from Shiro, surrounded by his friends who wouldn’t leave him on his own.

He breathed a heavy sigh and leaned further back into the sofa. Everything would be fine.

Just as he found something worth watching, finally able to relax for the first time since the incident, he heard a heavy pounding on his door. He jumped at the intrusive noise, and his heart leapt into his throat.

“Keith! Keith open up!” 

Keith was on his feet in seconds flat, recognizing Lance’s voice, who was supposed to be back at the shop right now, safe and sound. 

He flung the door open wide, revealing the mechanic who was hunched over, huffing vigorously, looking like he had run a marathon.

“Lance? What are you doing he-”

“Keith, holy crow!” Lance shouted, throwing his arms around the racer, who stood there frozen on the spot, blinking in confusion. 

“Keith…” Lance spoke again softly, panting heavily in his ear, his chest heaving rapidly. 

Hyper aware of the lack of personal space between them, and the warmth of Lance’s body against his, Keith felt his face heating up rather quickly.

“L-Lance, did you run the whole way here?” Keith stammered.

Lance didn’t answer, instead he pulled back just enough to look Keith in the eyes, his own eyes brimming with concern as he regarded Keith’s injuries. His hands came up and cupped Keith’s face tenderly, gently turning him this way and that to better inspect him. 

Keith’s body trembled as a cold chill moved through him at the not-so-unwelcome sensation of Lance’s fingers on his skin, and he found himself unconsciously leaning into the mechanics warm hands. He must take great care of them, as they seemed to be too soft for someone of his hands-on profession.

“Keith…” Lance whispered, “Your skin is gross.” 

Suddenly he was pushing past Keith, who could only stare as the mechanic invaded his kitchen and rummaged through his drawers.

“Have you cleaned yourself up at all? You look terrible. Do you have a first aid kit or something? Whatever, nevermind, just go sit down and I’ll make due.” Lance insisted. 

Keith shut the front door gently before slowly making his way back to the couch, watching as Lance ransacked his kitchen drawers in order to gather what he assumed were substitute first-aid supplies.

Coming in and setting everything down on the coffee table, Lance sat down beside Keith and got to work cleaning the injuries. 

He was a little less gentle than Keith imagined he would be, and he found himself trying to lean away or swat at his hands. To which Lance would pull him back closer, or grab his hands and hold them till Keith stopped trying to pull away. 

It wasn’t like he was being manhandled, just Lance seemed to be deep in thought as he worked, and probably wasn’t aware of how rough he was being. For the most part Keith sat there and took it, conceding to the mechanic, who was obviously only trying to help him. Until Lance applied the stinging antiseptic just a tad too harshly.

“Lance!” Keith said, snatching the other boy’s hands away from his face, pinning them together.

“Keith let go, I need to-”

“Are you alright?” Keith asked, relaxing his grip but not quite letting go. 

Lance also relaxed, then frowned. Then he once again, and as suddenly as before, invaded Keith’s personal space, burying his face into Keith’s shoulder.

Lance sobbed, and Keith froze up again, not used to being someone in a position to comfort others. That, and the fact that he, the confident and ever so proud Lance Mcclain, was in his home and literally crying on his shoulder at this very moment. Things were happening way too fast today, and Keith could barely wrap his head around any of it. 

“Keith… I’m so sorry…” Lance cried, his breath hot and shaky against Keith’s neck.

Keith frowned, then released Lance’s hands, and tentatively put his arms around the sobbing boy in an attempt for comfort him. 

“What for?” Keith asked. 

“I didn’t... mean for this to happen.” Lance said. 

“Well… of course not. It’s not like you knew.” Keith explained.

Lance was silent for a moment, save for the occasional sniffle and soft whimpering. 

Though Keith wasn’t well versed in the art of comfort, he longed to hold onto the boy tighter and experiment with soothing acts he’d seen people do before. He wanted Lance closer, but he knew that was a more selfish craving on his part. Now was not the time for his eagerness, and just this he thought should be enough for him. Perhaps after this he and Lance’s relationship would be a bit less rocky. Maybe they could even be friends. 

_ Friends? _

_ It’s a start. _

_ Why are you even thinking like this right now? _

“I just didn’t want you to get caught up in this.” Lance spoke softly, barely above a whisper. 

“Lance… it’s fine. Besides, it wasn’t about you… Not at first.” Keith admitted. 

Lance pulled away to look at him, “What do you mean?”

Keith shifted uncomfortably, glancing away as he spoke, “They wanted me to join the Galra… but I said no… and they…” He licked his lips as he tried to find the right words to explain. “Sendak told me about Lokval… and… he was gonna come after you. And he… he said... “

He did  _ not _ want to repeat the words Sendak said about him. They felt vile even just forming on his tongue, so he held it, and gritted his teeth, staring down at his lap at a loss for words. 

One of Lance’s hands touched the top of his and he looked back up at the boy, not even realizing he was trying to blink back angry tears. 

“It’s okay,” Lance spoke. “I can... imagine… just… what happened after that?”

Keith gave a heavy sigh, eyes sweeping the room till they came back to land on Lance’s. 

“I hit him.” He replied bluntly. 

Lance blinked, “You… you what?” 

“I hit him as hard as I could. Then they rushed me and… well…” he finished, gesturing to the state of his face with a half-hearted smile. 

Lance shook his head and placed a tender palm on the side of Keith’s face, “Why? Why did you do that? Why didn’t you just get out of there?” 

“I just didn’t… what he said about you… I was so just so angry.” Keith said.

With his other hand, Lance pried the tight fist in Keith’s lap apart, slipping his fingers inside to take a gentle hold. 

“Why?” Lance whispered.

Was he getting closer? Keith’s eyes went wide, and he flushed madly. His eyes flitted to Lance’s lips, inches from his, as quick as he could. But it was a horrible mistake. Was he on fire? He sure felt like it. What was happening?

The mechanic didn’t seem fazed at all by it. He gazed up at Keith urgently, expectantly. Was he waiting for an answer? Was he waiting… for… ?

Suddenly Keith let out a gasp as Lance’s weight shifted against him, their hands pressing right against the tender area of his stomach where Sendak landed his last blow. He quickly made to shove them away, without trying to seem like he was shoving Lance himself. 

“Oh my god! Keith!” Lance cried out, lifting the hem of his shirt to inspect the dark bruise he had earned from his scuffle with the Galra. “Keith, I’m so sorry! I-”

“It’s fine… I’m okay.” Keith explained, flashing Lance a soft smile, which the boy returned along with a nervous laugh.

“I suppose I… should finish…” Lance said, gesturing to his unfinished job cleaning up Keith’s injuries. 

Keith nodded, “Just… be easy, alright?” 

Lance gave a short nod and a soft smile before continuing his work. 

Keith was still reeling from… whatever it was that almost… maybe… might have happened between him and Lance. He was never good at taking cues, and honestly now that the mechanic wasn’t so close and making him dizzy, he thought it could have been anything. Though he was having a hard time coming up with anything else. 

It had to have been something else. I mean a… a  _ kiss _ ? Preposterous. No way. Not Lance. Not… with him.

Maybe there was a piece of dirt on his face that Lance missed and he was trying to get a closer look. Maybe… uhh…. maybe...

“I don’t hate you, you know.” Lance spoke up after a moment or so of silent between them. 

Keith deadpanned, not sure how to respond. Thankfully he didn’t have to because Lance was apparently not done talking. Not that he minded this softer Lance that tended to him, but who was this boy and where was the real Lance? 

“I never did… I just… after Lokval… I don’t really trust racers.” Lance confessed, trying very hard to keep his eyes on his work, and not on the eyes of the racer sitting in front of him. 

“It’s okay… I understand.” Keith said with a gentle smile.

Everything was happening so fast but nothing was going wrong, at least not from his perspective. Sure today didn’t start off great, but this was certainly the best ending he could think of. Not in a million years did he expect Lance to show up on his doorstep and… cater to him. 

It was certainly very risky of Lance to come here, and run the whole way no less. Keith wondered if he had thought about it at all, if he was in the least bit scared that the Galra might have been planning an ambush. After what they had said to Keith, he wouldn’t have been surprised.

“Are… are you scared?” Keith inquired gently.

“Pfft! Me? Scared!?” Lance barked a laugh that sounded a little too forced, nervous even, and ended with a few coughs into his fist. 

Keith frowned at him, and Lance turned away, knowing the racer hadn’t bought it at all. Honestly though, what had been there to buy at all? 

Keith gave Lance’s hand a squeeze, “You have friends that love you, and won’t let anything happen to you.” 

“Yeah… I guess you’re right.” Lance replied softly, meeting Keith’s gaze once again as he resumed his ministrations. 

Another few moments of silence crept by, and Keith didn’t think it could get much better than it currently was between them. He even felt himself smiling effortlessly, even if his cheeks were starting to ache, it was a good ache. 

“Keith?”

“Mmhm?” 

“Are.. we… we’re friends… right?” Lance asked hesitantly, as if testing the waters, like Keith might snap at him for wording it wrong.

But on the contrary, Keith was astonished, thrown for a loop even. But only for a moment, then he was giving Lance the most tender, reassuring smile he could muster. 

“Of course… if you want to be.” he answered.

“Yeah,” Lance nodded, “I’d like that.”

The smile he wore, that had since yet been less than wholehearted, suddenly engulfed his entire face, and reached all the way to his eyes. Keith swore he saw them sparkle. 

Neither of them even realized they had been staring at each other, motionless, nothing but goofy, tender smiles on their faces. 

Not until the door swung open, causing both boys to startle and clutch onto each other as they looked round to see who had intruded on their bonding moment. 

“Shiro!” Keith blurted, half angry. Did he not know how to knock? Oh right, Keith had told him he didn’t need to. Since they had become so close and often spent most of their time together, Keith had given him a key and told him to just come in whenever. Funny they didn’t hear it. 

“Hey I-” He began, but stopped as he caught sight of the two and their close proximity on the couch. “Oh, um… I just… came to get Lance and… take him to Hunk’s. I’ll come back.” 

“No, it’s fine.” Lance said, blushing like mad, and trying to scoot away and make it seem like they weren’t so close. “I think I’m... done anyway.” He looked to Keith again. “Will you be alright?” 

Keith nodded, “Yeah, thank you Lance.”

Lance gave his hand a soft squeeze before getting up and letting go, seemingly reluctant, as their hands stayed connected till they just no longer could, falling away from each other listlessly.

“Well... see ya, hot-shot.” Lance shot back at him before walking past Shiro, who gave Keith a knowing smirk before leaving yet again.

Keith buried his face in his hands and nearly screamed. He would absolutely not live that down. 


	6. Chapter 6

“Huuuuunk, it’s so eeeaaarly. The shop doesn’t open for another two hours. What are we doing?” Lance groaned, dragging his feet dramatically. 

“I always go in this early. This is when I clean the office, restock the store room and reconcile vendors.” Hunk explained. “You think that stuff gets done on it’s own?” 

“No,” Lance huffed, crossing his arms defiantly. “I just didn’t think we were gonna be up at the ass-crack of dawn.”

The darkness of the early hour gave way to the rising sun, peeking just over the skyline, painting the clouds with beautiful pinks and yellows against the deep blue of the morning sky. Lance felt that particular shade of blue, dark and tired, awake but not yet alive, aglow with the morning sun, but not yet vibrant with the day. 

He rubbed incessantly at his eyes, trying to encourage them to stay open, and to get rid of the blur of sleep that seemed to linger just on the edge of his vision. Nothing seemed real at this hour. Even the few other people around seemed to him like mindless drones, and not actual human beings, trudging just as he was. Hunk seemed to be the only one bright eyed and bushy tailed at this time.

There were only a few other people that he could see, probably walking to work themselves. Sane people, Lance thought, were probably still in bed right now, where he wanted to be as well. The sleep that clung to him made everything around seem as if he were in a dream, and he almost wished he was. He’d give anything to be back in bed, curled up in his warm blankets, dreaming peacefully. 

A cold wind on his face brought him back to harsh reality. 

The chill of the morning hung in the air, manifesting itself as the puffs of steam on their breath and the slight breeze that tingled on his cheeks. Good thing he kept a couple of good lotions in the bathroom at work to combat the dryness the cold would inflict on his poor face. Lance yanked up the hood of his jacket to try and break some of the wind, pulling it tighter around him to shake the chill. 

Try as he might, he couldn’t seem to fight the clutches of his drowsiness, like a monster whose claws were in too deep, and there was no breaking free. Even the cold did little to coax him awake. The only thing it really did was make him uncomfortable. 

A low grumble came from his stomach, along with the constricting feeling of hunger pangs, and Lance knew he wouldn’t last long without something to eat. Perhaps he should have gotten up earlier when Hunk shook him awake to have breakfast. Instead he had slept in, electing to get as much beauty sleep as he could before Hunk got him up to leave.

But now he decided he’d rather have food in his belly than an extra thirty measly minutes of sleep; that didn’t do anything for his complexion now, thanks to the cold morning air. 

He mumbled to himself, something about dying if he didn’t eat something soon, eyelids drooping lower and lower till he was nearly walking with his eyes completely closed. 

Then, like a gift from the heavens, a sweet, syrupy smell wafted his way. He let his nose take the lead, guiding him to a donut shop where he pressed up against the window, eyeing the freshly made treats inside with fervor. 

“Lance?” Hunk questioned, turning to his friend when he noticed Lance was no longer by his side.

“Hunk, we gotta get some donuts. I’m so hungry. And some coffee. Coffee and donuts.” Lance said excitedly, making for the door.

Hunk caught him by the shoulder before he could enter the store “Excuse me? We are not getting donuts.”

Lance’s stomach gurgled again and he clutched at it, ogling the pastries on the inside of the glass.

“Hunk, I’m starving here, I have to eat something or… or… I won’t make it. I’m about to keel over.”

Another growl sounded from depths of his abdomen, and Lance gave Hunk the most pitiful look he could manage.

“First of all: you’re being overdramatic.” Hunk stated, causing Lance to pout. “Second of all: They’re cheap, and they don’t even look that great. If you want good food, I’ll take you to this bakery I know of down the street. Besides, I can’t stand by and watch my best friend consume sub par baked goods. Come on. My treat.”

Lance had to admit, the breakfast sandwich from the bakery was way better than any glazed donut from some cheap donut shop. And their coffee wasn’t half bad either.

At least he no longer felt like he was dying of hunger and sleep deprivation. Perhaps by the time they made it to the garage he’d be awake enough to get an early start on his projects for the day. He could even feel himself developing the much needed pep in his step.

“This is so good Hunk, I’m glad you talked me out of those donuts. They wouldn’t have been as good as this.” Lance mumbled around the food in his mouth.

“Well your butt’s gonna get up tomorrow when I wake you up to eat breakfast.” Hunk explained.

“Yeah, yeah.” Lance said, bumping Hunk with his elbow. “Thanks buddy, I owe you o-”

Hunk heard Lance gasp, and turned to his friend, who was now walking rigidly beside him. He was barely even chewing the bite he had in his mouth. His eyes were wide and focused straight ahead of him. 

“Lance?” Hunk said.

Lance forced the food down, swallowing hard.

“Over there.” Lance whispered, “Those guys.” 

Hunk glanced over, across the street to where Lance had motioned subtly with his eyes. Three young men were walking parallel to them. They were staring right back, two of them at Lance and one at Hunk. 

They looked harmless enough, if you didn’t count the staring, and the fact that they all seemed to be wearing something purple, and of course Lance acting like he had seen a ghost. But other than that you wouldn’t have suspected them of anything more than three young friends having a morning stroll. 

Obviously this wasn’t the case. To an unsuspecting eye perhaps, but both Hunk and Lance knew better. 

“Galra…” Hunk muttered.

“What do they want?” Lance hissed, asking no one in particular. 

“I don’t know, but stay on the other side of me and just.. Don’t look at them, okay?” Hunk told him. 

Lance nodded, walking just a little closer to hunk, thankful they only had just a couple more blocks go till they were at the shop. 

Lance could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the blood rushing through his veins, he could hear his pulse thumping in his head and throbbing in his limbs. Despite the cool morning air and the chill he had felt before, he was now burning up, a sweat breaking out on his brow. Where before he had pulled his jacket tighter around him to keep him warm he now desperately wanted to shrug it off and bask in the cold breeze. 

His anxiety, though, kept him from doing so, ill-fated to tolerate the rising body temperature the same anxiety was giving him. At least until he could get to work. Though he was contemplating just stripping stark naked and laying on the cool cement floor of the garage. 

Not to mention that Hunk was warm, and standing so close, almost pressed up against him, and did nothing for his urgency for cool air. But he dare not leave his side, even a few inches away was too much for Lance to deal with right now. 

Out of the corner of his eye he tried to keep track of the thugs, making sure they stayed on that side of the street and well enough away from him. He didn’t recognize them personally, but he knew, from the purple they each sported and the dirty glares they were giving him, there was no way they were anything but Galra goons.

As soon as they arrived that the shop, Hunk practically shoved Lance inside and locked the door behind them.

“Hunk, they’re not leaving.” Lance observed, peering out the big glass window to the other side of the street where the three Galra were now loitering.

Hunk put his hands on Lance’s shoulders, “Don’t worry about them. Why don’t you go get started and I’ll keep an eye out, alright?” he said, giving Lance a tender smile. 

Lance nodded hesitantly, “Okay, alright.” and allowed hunk to escort him to the back where he could begin on his daily projects.

Allura was the next to arrive, home made coffee in hand, humming blissfully to herself. That is until Hunk, delicately as he could, informed her of the situation at hand. 

“What!?” She shouted, brows furrowed, outrage blazing like an inferno in her, normally soft and sweet eyes. The ceramic coffee cup in her hand shook slightly as the strength of her grip grew harder on it. If it had been made of some styrofoam or cardboard material Hunk knew it would have been crushed by now, not that he wasn’t entirely sure it still wouldn’t be, given the way her knuckles were turning white.

Knowing full well Allura might waltz right outside and confront them (and that was the best case scenario), Hunk put himself between her and the door before continuing. 

“Nothing happened, not yet at least, they’re just hanging out out there.” He explained.

Her hand shot for the telephone but Hunk shook his head.

“Allura, as much as I wish you could, you can’t call the police. They’re not technically breaking any laws.” He added.

She sighed, eyes falling in frustration, her anger giving way to bitter disappointment, and she slowly set the phone back onto the receiver with a soft click.

“Where’s Lance?” She asked quietly.

“In the back. I told him not to worry too much about it.” Hunk answered. 

They both made their way from her office to the door to the back garage where they could see Lance, busy working on the red sportbike belonging to Keith, its parts carefully organized on the floor around him. 

He seemed to be working diligently, but both of them could tell he was distracted and nervous; stopping every now and then, with a glassy, far off look in his eyes. Only to be brought back by the sharp sound of a tool slipping out of his hand and clattering to the floor, echoing shrilly around the large garage.

Allura turned, glowering out the big window at the three Galra goons patrolling the corner of another shop across the way.

“They won’t try anything.” She spoke. 

“What do you mean?” Hunk asked, following her gaze. 

“They’re only here to send a message. They only mean to scare us. Well, scare Lance.” she explained, her gaze distant, as if looking into memory.

“How do you know that?” Hunk ventured curiously.

“I know the Galra.” she said, a little cryptically in Hunk’s opinion.

She made to walk back to her office, but not before gripping Hunk firmly by the shoulder, her eyes piercing and, if Hunk were a Galra, he’d be scared shitless by the look on her face. 

“If those punks even so much as step off that sidewalk in the direction of this shop, you had better come let me know immediately.” she growled.

And before he could ask for elaboration, she was gone.

“Dammit.” Lance muttered to himself, wincing at the earsplitting clang of the wrench as it hit the floor.

Stooping down, he wiped his sweaty palms on his pants before plucking it back up gingerly. 

“Lance… do you need some help?” Pidge offered, leaning casually against the counter.

Lance scoffed as he set down the wrench on his workbench, reaching for a fresh bag of bolts to open. He eyed his companion with an air of skepticism.

“Pidge, please, remember who the professional is here. I am perfectly capable of doing this by mys-” 

Lance miscalculated his strength and ripped the bag wide open, sending bolts flying everywhere. The pinging of the little metal parts echoed around the room, garnering the attention of Coran, who only looked up in mild interest from where he was working on a chopper. 

Pidge crouched down beside Lance with a sigh, and helped him pick up all the bolts. Normally she wouldn’t worry about Lance, dismissing any strange behavior as just… Lance. But she knew what was going on, everyone did, Allura informed both her and Coran as soon as they arrived. 

He was jumpy, nervous, and she hurt for him. They didn’t always get along, but siblings rarely did. Not that they were actually related, only that she thought of Lance as another, slightly more annoying, yet endearing, older brother. 

Lance’s fingers fumbled with the bolts, shaky and uneasy, and she could see his face was contorted into an unusual expression of worry and trepidation. 

Perhaps right now what he needed most was a distraction. A tactic she could always pull on her actual brother, Matt, when he wasn’t feeling himself. Throw a few words that may rub the wrong way, irritate just enough to instigate just enough banter to annoy without angering. But what?

She could poke at his looks, tell him that face makes him look old and those wrinkles might stay there. 

That’s a little too mean, she thought. He would most certainly fly off the handle at that.

Than an idea struck her, something from the conversation she had with Hunk when she first got there. He had made her swear to secrecy, but this was too good an opportunity not to bring it up.

Leaving Lance to pick up the last few on his own, she stood and grabbed her phone, and shot a quick text to Hunk before putting her plan into motion. 

“You wouldn’t say no if it was  _ Keith _ offering to help you.” 

Lance froze. 

Bullseye.

_ Hunk handed a plate of food to Lance, who was curled up on the couch searching the channels for something to watch, then took his own seat beside him.  _

_ “So, why the dramatic exit from the shop earlier to get to Keith’s, huh?” Hunk asked. _

_ Lance stopped chewing, but only for a moment.  _

_ “I just wanted to make sure he was alright.” Lance mumbled, proceeding to pick and poke at the food on his plate with his spork. _

_ “Shiro could have driven you there. Or, ya know, you could have just called him.” Hunk analyzed, before taking a sip of his drink.  _

_ Lance was unusually quiet, still poking at the poor food like it was a pin cushion. _

_ “Do you like him?” Hunk inquired.  _

_ “He’s alright.” Lance spoke up. _

_ “No, I mean, do you like him?” _

_ That got his attention. When Hunk looked at him again, Lance was gawking, brows knit together in confusion (and a bit of embarrassment that Hunk detected in the pinkening of his cheeks). _

_ “What are we, in middle school?” Lance countered.  _

_ Hunk grinned smugly, “You didn’t say no.”  _

_ “I don’t.” Lance grumbled. _

_ Hunk tilted his head to one side, smile growing bigger. _

_ “I don’t!” he insisted. _

_ “So what did you do?” Hunk pursued further, turning back to his plate.  _

_ “I… I.. he was pretty banged up so I… ya know, patched him up.” Lance told him, trying to act like he was more interested in the movie he had found than this conversation.  _

_ “Oh, then what?” Hunk delved.  _

_ “Then Shiro showed up and drove me here.” Lance answered bluntly.  _

_ Hunk frowned, “Did… anything else happen?”  _

_ Lance stopped eating again, eyes distant, face rapidly becoming more and more red. _

_ “Oh no…” Lance mumbled.  _

_ “What?” Hunk asked. _

_ Lance whipped around to look at him, startled, as if Hunk had just apparated there beside him and scared him half to death. _

_ “Nothing!” Lance blurted.  _

_ “Come on, Lance, what is it?” Hunk implored, setting his plate down on the coffee table to give Lance his undivided attention.  _

_ Lance followed suit, and licked his lips before continuing, “Hunk I… think I… tried… to kiss him.”  _

_ “You what?” Hunk half shouted half laughed.  _

_ Lance put his head in his hands and whined, something about acting like an idiot, and what Keith was going to think of him.  _

_ “He probably thinks I’m a giant floozy or some kind of weirdo I hardly know him oh my gosh I have his bike at the shop he has to come get it when I’m done oh no I can’t see him again I can’t do it!” _

_ Hunk, try as he might, couldn’t stop laughing. Not that it was funny. He was just kind of excited about the prospect of someone making Lance let down his guard enough to almost kiss. Especially since it seemed it was Lance himself who nearly initiated it.  _

_ “Stop laughing!” Lance barked, which only made Hunk laugh harder.  _

_ “I can’t believe that happened.” Lance whined to himself. _

_ “Oh, come on,” Hunk began, wrapping his arm around Lance’s shoulder. “It’s not that bad. Things like that kinda happen when you’re around someone you like.”  _

_ “I don’t like him!” Lance said defiantly, cutting his eyes at his friend.  _

_ “Hmm, okay.” Hunk conceded mockingly.  _

_ “I don’t know what came over me… I just felt so… calm… and… I don’t know just… good… “ _

_ Even just thinking about it, and the way Keith’s eyes bored into his, the warmth and the haze in his mind as he leaned in; Lance could feel himself falling from reality yet again and his gaze once more became distant. A tinge of red stained his cheeks and a lazy smile tugged at the corners of his lips.  _

_ My god, it was worse than Hunk realized.  _

_ “Are you sure that’s all you felt?” Hunk hinted.  _

_ Lance blinked and gasped softly, as if the poor boy had forgotten how to breathe in only the span of seconds.  _

_ Then he was back to glaring at Hunk, “Yes that’s all. And don’t you tell anyone about this, got it? Any of it.” Lance demanded.  _

_ “Alright, alright.” Hunk said, but he was already thinking about how he was gonna spill everything to Pidge the next day. She was gonna get a kick out of this. _

Lance cleared his throat as he stood back up, having collected the last of the bolts. “I don’t know what you mean.” 

She beamed at him, smugly, “Oh, I think you do. Don’t think I don’t know about the two of you getting cozy at Keith’s house.” 

“I… I told him that in confidence! I can’t believe this!” Lance shouted. 

If Pidge knew, then everybody knew. She wasn’t known for keeping gossip to herself. And if she strong-armed Hunk into telling her then what was stopping her from spreading it to everyone else? 

“Relax, Lance, I haven’t told a single soul.” She said, almost like she could hear his racing thoughts word for word.

“Not that it’ll do you much good, it’s not like you’re subtle about it, everyone is bound to catch on sooner or later.” She added. 

“That is not true!” he objected, face as red as a stop sign, flailing his arms about as if the dramatic flair would help to prove his point. “We’re just friends, okay?” 

“Oh, just friends?” Pidge mocked.

“Yeah.” Lance retorted shortly. 

“I imagine it’s common for just friends to feel such a strong attraction that they nearly make out.” she surmised.

Lance opened his mouth to protest, but he couldn’t articulate to save his life. His mouth hung open, driveling out various vowel sounds, trying to form words the for an argument. 

Flustered, to define Lance right now, was a huge understatement. Brows knit in exasperation, shaking like a leaf in a hurricane, Lance was not unlike a hot volcano getting ready to erupt. 

Until Coran walked through the door to the front store room. Lance hadn’t even heard him leave, he had been so focused and upset with Pidge that Coran must have slipped out, careful and unnoticed. 

But the slamming of the door as he walked back in was very apparent, not that it was on purpose. The door was finicky, and if you weren’t gentle, it would slam shut, much louder than Lance’s dropped tools. 

“Whoops, didn’t mean to startle you.” Coran said as he returned to his side of the garage. 

Lance sighed and turned away, trying to avoid Pidge’s stare that would only serve to irritate him more.

Still worked up and seeing no relief, he turned on his heel and marched over to Coran. 

“Are those goons still out there?” He demanded. 

Coran frowned, “I’m afraid so. Hunk said- Lance? What are you doing?” 

Lance then marched to the large tool vault and opened up one of the drawers, plunging his hand inside, digging around till his fingers found the rubber hand grip of a hefty, extra-long socket wrench. He gave the thick tool a few swings, then marched towards the door, hellbent on teaching those Galra a thing or two. 

“Lance! Wait!” Pidge cried, grabbing him around the waist and trying to hold him back. She was too small, he only drug her along with him. 

“Lance, think about this. You can’t just go out there swinging that thing around willy nilly. You’re angry and you don’t know what you’re doing.” Coran chided, following him. 

Lance’s hand made contact with the doorknob and he flung it open so hard he himself might have jumped, had it not been for this seething rage that consumed all thought and feeling. 

“Oh I know what I’m doing, alright, I’m going to bash some… teeth… in… “ he trailed off, letting the arm carrying his weapon of choice slump down to his side. 

Pidge stumbled back onto the floor as her grip on Lance slipped when he stopped. Coran poked his head around the doorframe to see what was going on. 

Almost face to face with Lance, was Keith, looking equally as shocked as Lance was to see him there.

“What… what are you doing here?” Lance stammered. 

Keith blinked, “Hunk uh… Hunk texted me and said there was something you wanted to talk to me about… about Red… he said it was urgent.”

“Uh…” Lance looked to Hunk for an explanation. Hunk shrugged, shook his head and motioned to Pidge, then pointed to his phone. 

Of course.

“Whose teeth were you uh… going to ‘bash in’?” Keith inquired, eyeing the steel tool hanging loosely from Lance’s hand.

“Oh, uh… “

“The Galra that are hanging out across the street, trying to scare Lance.” Pidge piped up, shoving her glasses back into place as she stood.

“Galra?” Keith said, immediately on edge. 

“It’s not Sendak,” Lance mentioned reassuringly, “Just some punks probably sent by him.” 

Keith turned from Lance to look for himself. Sure enough he spotted the three thugs in question, slouched against a wall like they owned the place. It made Keith’s blood boil.  There was nothing he wanted more than to take that heavy tool in Lance's hand and go smash some heads with it himself.

He glanced sideways at Lance, and noted the inner rage in the mechanic's eyes, as well as the scared person inside who just wanted the problem to go away. His eyes dropped to the wrench which was once again in a white-knuckled grip; then back up to his face, color-drained, and worrying his bottom lip nervously. 

While Keith understood Lance’s rage and his desire for retribution, he wasn’t about to let him go out there either. Three to one is unfair odds, he should know, and Lance didn’t need a set of bruises to match Keith’s (he still ached from the beating he got at the track), especially not on that beautiful face.  _ Wait, what? _

And though the giant socket wrench in Lance’s hand looked intimidating enough (Keith was more than a little stunned when Lance came flying through the door with it raised to strike), it likely wouldn’t make a difference. 

Lance was NOT going out there. Period. 

“You wouldn’t wanna get blood on your tools.” Keith said with a soft smile. 

Lance’s lips quirked up in a half-hearted grin, and he chuckled lightly, “Yeah I… I guess you’re right.” 

“So uh… what… did you need to tell me?” Keith asked, satisfied that he got a chuckle out of Lance, and turning a tad red at the sweet sound.  _ AHEM! _ But now desperate to ease the tension in the room (and also very much aware of the others crowded around them).

“Wh-what?” Lance gasped, becoming a little red himself, right up to the tips on his ears. 

“About Red.” Keith elaborated. 

“Oh.. right. Red. uh… “ Lance’s gaze flitted to Hunk, hoping that, given he had been the one to tell Keith to come, he would have some idea of what Lance was supposed to do. This was obviously some sort of ruse he and Pidge had cooked up. But Hunk just motioned for him to take Keith back there with him without a word. 

“Right, uh… Red. Come on.” Lance uttered, taking Keith by the hand and leading him into the back garage.  _ Why did you do that why are you holding his hand? he is perfectly capable of walking by himself and following you on his own. what are you doing?? _

Behind him, though, Keith was flushed and stunned, staring at the back of Lance’s head completely speechless; then down at their connected hands as a smile tugged his lips into a goofy grin.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me @tryforce on tumblr


End file.
